Image: Pixabay
Things of beauty, gossamer fancies and rainbow dreams. The Dreamer weaves. The Great Emptiness gives a knowing look. Stardust flows from her hands and wondrous mysteries from her thoughts.
Billions upon billions of stars, diamond bright and filled with unceasing fire sing their songs of praise. They know what it is to be born from the depths of the furnace. They live with a passion untouched by doubt. There is no death, only immortality. There is no sadness, only joy.
She is the eternal mercy, compassion and love. These gifts she weaves into matter, flesh and blood. To dream is her gift, an act of creation and regeneration. She is the Mother and the Father. She is the beginning and the end. Such gifts She passes to Her twin. The Universe thus continues its cycle of being.
She has knowledge of all in the Great Dream, memories vanishing like mist at dawn, upon Her awakening. At such time her twin emerges from the Cosmic Egg, birthed from thought and sound. She gazes at the image of her future self. He is in a reflective mood. Creator gazing upon Creator’s visage. He was She once. One birthed the other. To dream is to gain knowledge of the Soul. She dreams him into being, thus was his work set out. He dreams her into being in the cycle to come.
The writer ends his tale with those words. The pen is gently laid on the table, an intricate instrument worthy of admiration. He gazes at it for an age. The Universe is not what they imagine; it is filled with veil upon veil. Multiverses upon multiverses. Each like a tributary flowing into an unending river.
Foolish imaginings so is his work dismissed by the learned of his day. The more he unveils reality the more they fear his words. How little they understand of his true role in the shaping of their world and many others beyond that. His words give form to dreams. His Soul is the chalice of creations. He is a Dreamer.
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