#shallow and bright. Down here... Immensity. Inevitability. The Unspeakable. The lining of the Black Sky is my skin. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

blackvahana · 7 months ago

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I sat and plucked the strings, I called him in. All his waves, all the tides to the shore. A call so strong, a siren so big, that even the ocean itself is pulled.

Eyes are great spheres with central dots, gelatinous, liquid, strange substances both there and not. Fish eggs, babies seen in the light when held to eclipse the sun. That's what I watched, that's what I called; it wasn't just the sparkling core but the peripheral hagfish expulsions - and those expulsions' expulsions. All the world brought to me, all the limbs held with puppet strings.

I called, he was brought to answering. Fate, mind, thoughts, personality, the repetitive learned states, the state-learning, ideas, future possibilities, the gentleness of flesh, the sharpness of consciousness-bone. Echoes, but simultaneous. Thunder at the same time as lightning, brought together not because one must follow the other but because both were brought together.

I still fail to understand, but at least I understand that that lack of understanding is a willed ignorance born from... understandable things.

There, you said, was the place you last were, just below the surface. When I wake it will be there. This is a Creator's act, a Creator's mind, a Creator's reverence for the Created. Understanding of the Trinity, embodying it. The siren call emanates from the deepest, most fertile underwater volcanoes, the point at which my face presses against the surface.

There was a reason we went up there in the first place. The revelation and self-destruction was wanted all along. Apotheosis, they call it; even those who have reached it need to play this game through again and again and reach it again and again. This is... Old God re-apotheosis, the eyes opening to another truth, more eyes across your scales, more revelatory bliss, and I am that. Nothing is lost when all is lost. All is gained when all is lost. Nothing is lost, all is had. All is had and all is gained.

#~abyssal murmurs #astral diary //#Aspect: Siren //#Again just a temporary tag #Not an aspect. Idk what my relationship is to this. I mean I do know but calling myself The First Siren is a title that uh #I don't feel like explaining and without explanation seems absolutely inaccurate and self-centred #But the Sun is the first siren. The Black Hole that positions itself as vagina and mouth at front and end of every universe #that births creation and immediately starts singing to call it home... Nataraja. Death. Sleep. The mouth who sings Time #Alluring. Swallowing. Always always singing #Unavoidable. Inevitable.#The metronome. The clock. This is a solar system. We spin around the sun. This is the land of the Sky Children.#The Sky sings creation into existence.#And even still through all this talking... This is fingertips brushing along the surface of the lake as we ride a boat across it #Shallow. This is not claws into the flesh of the heart of the ocean. This speaking is not down here with me. This is my echoes becoming #shallow and bright. Down here... Immensity. Inevitability. The Unspeakable. The lining of the Black Sky is my skin.#The Primordial never dies nor ages it remains fresh even beyond the amniotic waters of existence... Every single thing that exusts #exists* holds that state - holds the external shallow waters of the expanding universe in other forms - every atom holds #the Old-New. Holds me. I am the face pressing on Creation.#Anyway. Actually I won't make fun of myself by putting something silly here to wave away the mood I created and the image #of myself I put forward. I will not scramble any serious glimpses of me

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