Drake And Wake
We slip through the voids, clad as they are in their veils, the delicate fabric some call reality clinging and crawling at us as we pass. Our entry would be their destruction yet they seek us even more, enticed by the knife’s edge of fate they walk in our presence. The void is our realm and it is here we belong.
Until the words reach our nascent minds. For passing the veils subjects us to a new endeavor - time. But the words, the songs they are song to, are unlike anything in our existence. And for the first time we feel what the pleasure of skirting the edge. The draw that death has for those not of the void.
Some of us are lost. It is inevitable. And with them goes too those realities they chose to envelop. Gone from the void, gone are the veils, gone are us. And with it the songs, the words that so enticed to never be heard again.
We warn you. Try not to reach beyond. For the void is ours. It offers naught what you think. And it is not you alone whom pays the toll for the crossing. Don’t ask us to pay for your negligence -
With those final words uttered the sentinel collapsed, her form melting as she lost consciousness. Her spear shattering as she let it hit the floor. The mask upon her face slipping to show her slack features beneath and fluttering eyes.
Today’s art is courtesy of Pat Fix from Warsaw, Poland.