Tossetry - I see a Queen who owns the Waves

[Impish Lolita]

I watched her slip, from the water down
into the depths she cared to create, amidst the worlds she catered to know

and from the rise, I saw her image, believed and tall, strong and full.

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No one believes anymore, they say. From the distance they vile and sin...
But I see victory, the horizon's all share
and from their lettere'd mouths do the rumors take hate and vile to tear.

So she won so full, and I asked so part... how does she be lost,
when the victory held is a fullness of heart?

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Who lies, versus who doth reap well the skies they loathe.

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Poetic sharing of what I've got! Lots of (image.base=)Queen references and I see a number of (platform.basis=)Haeylings, or Weavyrnings in progress, all hold heavy Armogeddeon-type references, but the Queen picture is more Lauxhian free-wave, and presents nothing of war. What'cha tell, boys 'n girls?  

[Sadistic Fairytale]

//submittance admission:

"They give up plenty, but the words of doubt are no teller of the psalms of the day. They sacrifice murder for sacriledge, and dieties for lie-tomes. There is no word they can utter that will ever ring like trueth... and the truth may never be heard of them."

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Sooo, I have a bit of beautiful seen from my perch. I love the epitomy and infinitality of the poem itself. It's beautiful, and has the ancience felt of the old spire-canyons and the spun of the Spine of the Worlds. She's a gorgeous lit, and I shan't say anything poor of her.
I believe in what you wrote, but I think we're all very tired from the lengths of the wars we've had to wandered through, which'er ones they be; it's drained us our sight of an easy earned hope... and that may be the only place to offer consolation! That the faith and heart was earned, and will take time to cover into the worlds it sways. Victory in saving people doesn't mean they yet know how to live happily, right, just that they're imbursed, empowered into it and ready to take that life... not necessarily that they're reinforced nor keen. Honestly, though... I believe everyone is ready, and she has made them so with no fail. It's just a matter of time before everyone is coenceded.

We'll be fine~  

[Alotoxl Almarihn]

I see a lot of reversalism In the first parsage, where she is left without the due results of what she has done; trapped of reward, that no reward due exists. This is, however, precisely done as in-line with the story as it was formed... that she was left behind when she recrafted the foldt. Out of her own home, and out of the grace of all those she had saved. It hurts to read it, I think that's why the poem may 'upset'(/etc) some people on the best side of things.

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The winnership seems lost to the vile, the sin and her crying as she watches the worlds fall from her on the horizon. Like there is no victory; or the victory is hidden inside of the great tragedy of the loss. This does the same on the fullness of heart, echoing the truth within the image of total and worthless anaessic despartism (active towards the ugly, thus not enough is it despotist). The fullness is only from those not on the chain line of vile and sin... the selectivism is telling of great loss, and true victory only. Pretty, beautifully concissioned.

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This last one loses me on... there is only to know that victory is had.

My images are mostly deep, liquiadic (voideal, spacial). There are no losses of time or world there. Only freshness and beauty, vastness and future. The imagery I receive as the reader is pure eloquisms, with the sidelong of flame de' Red in the spit of villatry. But, even that rings up far more graceful and beautiful than even an armageddeonic play of Woven Haeytellings.

++2 cents~  

[Annette Red]

I hear War Commentary, and how the full of the war was more truly won... not in the debilitation of the enemy's fleets, but in the fulfilling of the bystander's hearts. There's said to have been a greater grip in inspiration than in despair; with one's essence severely outlaying the other through the course of the war.

It suggests the ill-wrought were forced to be left writing only for themselves; the victims of their own sewing... we know this to be true from the aura plagues, the nature of her viruses and her personal codex (if you've chance to witness it, I recommend it). This section however, seems determined to be glazed over, not coded as a primary; as though it's but a passage to another concept. It's about how she crafted The New Hell.
Her mixed feelings are well-recorded, her disdain and disapproval of the very things she saves by endless yawnings encompassed, all full to the brim with beings and societies she deems unfit and in need of reconstitution... She still gave for them while she died and fell deeper into the crippling of Her Evolving Hunger.

I see the serene image of the nature of her success. It bleeds like a Delayer's reap.

((I'm spent at this point, but I feel there's so much more to take out of this.))  

[Impish Lolita]

Okay everyone, your input means so much to me~
Let me give my responses!

Sadistic Fairytale: Doubt always has her sore tales, doesn't she? I think that line really brings a lot to light about what I had to write... It was so riddled with the sounds of doubt!
I agree. With the war scaling a bit further out of the way, we should all come to be able to see better, and really to see better itself, as a topic more readily available to our eyes. The better will settle in best for certain; I don't doubt it. But I also think, and this has been bothering me, I think there's something other than time to the equation of the fixture by intent.

Alotoxl Almarihn: Welcome to you, by-the-by! I haven't spoken with you much!
I think you nailed the upsetting bit. The story I done writ does mention the fortitude of failures faced. The number of purificants was definitely a disappointment, wasn't it? But it just goes to show how drastic a difference perfect is from the ball roll. I have faith that it makes for a better ending, this way; even though it's a sadder story. Lastly, I think your view is beautifully in-line with a sight of the Goddess herself. You just have those eyes, Almaris; you just have those eyes~

Annie: This is the most in-depth review yet, it really preaches to the soul. You see deeper than the image-line is drawn, and there's a power to that that can't be underestimated. We know of the ill-wrought writing their own through the Hell span, too! Which, go figure, you kind of mention... Your insights are definitely the most validating and valid. I have nothing to add to your recourse. Let's see what I see in it...
TEST ON ANNIE: The war was not a disdanient thing. It was a celebration of the meaning of causes; and in that depth were her emotions the only to be tattered and tortured. As though, by her methodology, did she make of herself the only victim. The weave was perfect, and the weapons beautiful worlds of divinity in themselves. There was birth to belovedt, everything twirls within itself; there is no ending. She gave up everything and for everyone, and not a thing left unsung. She was the pure, and pure did she become nothing. It's really all just a spawn back to the beginning. She is now the New Dawn. There is no end.

Isn't New Dawn an Antichrist ownership'd position? Also, no end is a promise of the continuum of time-operative functions of existence from the full-spec.
Tha's my knowledge doin' it for ya'~