Purple Light
I have walked through the mouth of the windowless body. Where all is clean, where souls remain still, no longer seeking the deep place. Now, the darkness has left me, and slowly I become one with the purple light. And all evil is now bound by great shackles that cannot be broken. The endless beauty. The gift of holy knowledge, the matchless wonder the colorless flame. There is a massive horizon. The light extends infinitely right and left. As high as heaven and spread far below the earth's roots. The deep reds of the morning, the cool greens of the night. There is no absence. Total presence. There is no gate, no gatekeeper. No key, no lock, no secrets. Even the void takes on definition. Earth takes it's place among the cosmos and and all darkness recedes. The light unending. The soft, but blinding light. Nothing can be seen. All senses stripped away. Naked receiver. Holy blessings. In that place, the firmament shudders in the wake of the Great One flexing his powerful arms. The sky is wrung out like a cloth soaked with water. The souls of every living being, all creatures that have taken breath, since the creation of life, are wrung out from the black and into a canyon, thousands of years deep. There, a great golden bowl containing the purifying fire is tipped, and its fire floods the canyon. Many will cry out. All will suffer. Torment by fire, all will burn, yet none will be consumed. A woman walks the rim of the canyon. She is pregnant and a great beam of light emanates from her womb. The child will be born. She will cry out sourly in her great pain. The child must go to fire. The child must be given to flame. And by this great sacrifice, those of the canyon who seek the light, shall be saved. They will rise, unscathed, and be sent into the peaceful place. The child grows from babe to hunter in the fire. He prowls and knows only death and heat. His mother's cool touch and soft skin are distant memories. No souls will be destroyed. All will pay for the sins they've hung on the neck of that Old One. The greatest spirit. He that is without beginning or end. An ouroboros. An infinite being, twisting among the molecular structure of the creation which he has created. All powerful (holy blessings) his name cannot be said (holy blessings). The shapeless face familiar only to spirit. A world without eyeballs to see or ears to hear. A mysterious prism, a geometric anomaly, a shape unseen, a shape unfathomable. It precedes dimensions and holds to no description other than truly awesome. Beyond the pages of histories unwritten and oceans of soul-matter and sound, a song is raised in infinite round. Naked receiver. Holy blessings. Those who have tortured the meek and cast wrath on the righteous will fall forever. An endless fall into haunted blackness. Hope becomes a beating pulse and rises slowly in the chests of those who have been forced into submission. Forgotten. The hands of heaven. The cloaks of angels. The beautiful abyss. Eternity is now.
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