|Skeren Dreamera (skeren) wrote,|
@ 2006-07-30 04:19:00
|Entry tags:||natural order, original|
Note: I don't think this has a fandom, but I can't be sure. Enjoy.
The constant ebb and flow of rain striking the window was undeniable, the force of nature that a person could never deny even when they tried to turn inwards. A heart would fall in tune with that beat, breaths would deepen and it would be as the womb again, uncontrolled and reliant on the mother spirit as the beat of her heart taught the child how they should breathe while still within her. Each crash on the window was a small hail of water droplets, harmless on their own yet a disaster when drawn together, a catastrophe of natural violence that would rip cities to shreds and leave nothing in the wake.
And still, a person indoors would deny any such thing. The touch of nature was not upon them. Their breath was their own, their thoughts unaffected, their very bodies untouched by the primal forces beyond manmade structures. They were as good as lies, and they weren’t even convincing to those watching. A spirit wouldn’t trust such a creation, such a lie, so why should any one person accept that this was a man unchallenged, and thus undefeated, in the face of such a glorious demand of nature?
There was nothing that would allow such a lie, and nothing that would call down the heavens to punish the arrogance. And that was fine. That was well and good because in the end one would come, one would see, and one would kill, and all those who thought nature was nothing to them, who thought there was no primal forces within them, would die. Those who were anticipating, and knowing of this end, would go on, and those who denied would be trapped in the flux of pain and death in a never-ending spiral of denial.
Cowardice knew no price, no demand, no expectation. It was leaving, unaware and unwilling, and it would not be. When the end came there was no way for cowards to exist, for where would they run? The mother spirit would have them back, should they wish to go or not, and the father would crush them into the willing waifs that would need her guidance. Violence and denial, trust and spirit, unity and destruction. They were all the basis of nothing, the everything, and they would be…
They would be the everything in the end where only the primal would carry on, and it would be like raindrops and a mother’s heartbeat again. It would be a rain that goes unheeding of glass and shatters though to the children in denial, plucking them with their covered ears and silenced eyes, and casting them back into the oblivion of self that they wished they would never have stepped forth from.
There is only so much a spirit should know, and only so much that a being would allow to be swallowed and taken in before being crushed. Rejuvenated, renewed, recreated in an image of that which had come to pass before and was no longer viable. Tearing down the violence, silencing the peace, starving the hungry, and coveting the cruel. There is no good or evil. There is no when or was.
There is nothing, and in that truth, there is everything.
Is that not what you seek?