Most of these trials and times of unrest come from the fact that we do not understand ourselves. — Teresa of Avila


And I swam into that primordial twilight of the soul,

Suffused with liliac and grey,

Where ancestral shadows wander and hunt and love and fight,

Where time ends and is forever reborn,

And all things come apart and sink into the waters of Apsu,

That House of Deep Waters,

Where Tiamat, that salty Ur-Sea, is fertilized,

And gives birth to all things in their turn,

Where the eyeless mind drifts down into the abyss,

And thought goes to where no thought can withstand,

Where consciousness is obliterated in the bloody, yawning womb of silence.

Upon that creaking, tottering winding stair,

I stood and lifted the battered sword from my weary knees.


And I will go to face the wheel of sharp daggers,

And I will slay the King of Death,

And I will walk beside Odin Woe-Bringer,

And I will raise the Diamond Weapon,

And I will put down the assailing beasts,

And I will weep upon their breasts, bloody and torn,

And I will hang from the gallows,

And I will dwell in the silence of the Mother and not the Father,

And I will weather the storms of my heart,

And I will welcome all my monsters,

And I will find the Spirit of the Depths,

And I will conquer what I find there.


Content to bear the agonies of the world,

Let us flow back to that nameless sea,

Those measureless mountains,

Those gloom-darkened forests,

For all the terror that lies there.


Blessed, we are blessed, I say.


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