“Look my child. Yes, over towards that river.
For it is as the watery chaos of thou soul, the abyss of thou immortal shadow.
But so to is it the river of life that slowly erodes the earth through the passage of time. Beholdeth unto its spell, for it is the dawn of the crimson sacrament."
...and upon the river a petal as white as snow floated amidst the embankment..."
’Tis a miraculous sight my Lord...one much akin to the blackened veil that covers thou face yet likens unto the beauty of thou magnificent incandescence.”
“Yes, my child. And of this river shalt thou partake. For its vestibules bathe the sinews of thou soul with grand splendour and unending ecstacy.”
“Yes my Lord, ‘tis a vision sleeping calmly on the threshold of thy subconscious. A subtlety to the darkness of thy being and a becoming of thy immortal self.
Many a tear doth this sight bring to thy face.
Certainly, this river that I view in the presence of you, my Lord, is truly that stream that falleth from thine eye.
A quiet tear of solitude becoming the flesh of thy cheek and the taste of thine lips.
And this isolate tear of lament can spawn yet a thousand lakes and seas, but ‘tis only one in the whole of the ocean and the might of this river to which I beholdeth.”
“It is true my child.
These words that come from your mouth. But come now. Under my cloak. In thine body thou shalt find peace everlasting...In you, shall be me...
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