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"out from the deep; a truth of forms" (The God We Dare Not Speak Of Myth #1)
In the depths there is the Abyss of Ink, and there is the blood of truth, the core of things: from within it forms rise up into the waters above, and as they drift closer to the light they become evident, and known to the world.
Form was not always the truth of the world. First, truth was stillness; ink placid at its core, water in waiting. The insistent prying of light resolved into perfect gradient.
Ere the surface of the ocean lay calm and unmarred. It was like a thick sheet with no wrinkles, and the light shone down dazzling into the water, and slowly it died as it reached far down into the Abyss.
The creatures of these seas were clear as glass. There were no bodies or things that did not let the light through, then; truth shone through tenuous visions, as the world was still unsettled. The first words were not yet heard, though surely, they were already waiting.
But things did not stay as they were. One day, the equilibrium of these layers was disturbed, and never again would the Abyss rest solely in its depths – never again would the gleaming face of the sea lay still and restful. Great spiraling spokes of ink were drawn up, and pierced through.. and spilled out, there, into great mounds nesting upon the sea's surface, that caused ripples and next waves. A cascade of motion, that from then on could never cease.
Thus after the truth of stillness, there was the truth of motion, and though these two could never, ever, coexist -- cleverly, they would find a way.
After stillness diminished and motion reigned, the world came to have for the first time 'lands.' The inks upon the surface and exposed directly to the light dried, and became dust and rock. Yet still they remain tethered to the Abyss, and in them, somewhere.. the flowing, living core. That is why every land has its own spirit and vitality, and why it did not all just one day sink back down.
Those tethers are still to be found today. They whorl lazily in the ocean, but you should never touch them. To touch 'true meaning' is to be twisted into something 'More' than what you were.
A soul stirred so will never easily rest.
So, 'land' is a scab upon the face of the sea, and if you are to pry too deeply upon it, dark blood will well up surely. The truth of stillness and motion have worked together, now, to create the truth of forms.
#thegodwedarenotspeakof #tgod #fantasy
© Zazozaliad
Form was not always the truth of the world. First, truth was stillness; ink placid at its core, water in waiting. The insistent prying of light resolved into perfect gradient.
Ere the surface of the ocean lay calm and unmarred. It was like a thick sheet with no wrinkles, and the light shone down dazzling into the water, and slowly it died as it reached far down into the Abyss.
The creatures of these seas were clear as glass. There were no bodies or things that did not let the light through, then; truth shone through tenuous visions, as the world was still unsettled. The first words were not yet heard, though surely, they were already waiting.
But things did not stay as they were. One day, the equilibrium of these layers was disturbed, and never again would the Abyss rest solely in its depths – never again would the gleaming face of the sea lay still and restful. Great spiraling spokes of ink were drawn up, and pierced through.. and spilled out, there, into great mounds nesting upon the sea's surface, that caused ripples and next waves. A cascade of motion, that from then on could never cease.
Thus after the truth of stillness, there was the truth of motion, and though these two could never, ever, coexist -- cleverly, they would find a way.
After stillness diminished and motion reigned, the world came to have for the first time 'lands.' The inks upon the surface and exposed directly to the light dried, and became dust and rock. Yet still they remain tethered to the Abyss, and in them, somewhere.. the flowing, living core. That is why every land has its own spirit and vitality, and why it did not all just one day sink back down.
Those tethers are still to be found today. They whorl lazily in the ocean, but you should never touch them. To touch 'true meaning' is to be twisted into something 'More' than what you were.
A soul stirred so will never easily rest.
So, 'land' is a scab upon the face of the sea, and if you are to pry too deeply upon it, dark blood will well up surely. The truth of stillness and motion have worked together, now, to create the truth of forms.
#thegodwedarenotspeakof #tgod #fantasy
© Zazozaliad
