August 11, 2013 § 1 Comment
Obsidian shapes float slowly in the faded, misty void. Jagged vastnesses of volcanic sheen, smoothed in places by time and unknowable forces, lingering on the edge of sight. Their orbit, aeon-slow, brings them together, apart, together in the chaotic pendulum-dance of emergence. Yet, despite the seeming infinity this procession endures, it slows and winds down. Erratic movements, missteps, interrupt the dance as the long years introduce decay and tidal forces.
The shapes crack and deform under stress, bending and twisting arthritically. Compression brings pressure, brings heat, brings the sputtering transmogrification of the alembic and the crucible. The simple becomes the complex and the complex combines into more upon more, fuelled by ever decreasing circles of light, until here we are looking out on a form more beautiful for its subtle transience.
And then out, like a bedside candle, it sputters and falls into silence unbroken.
May 30, 2013 § Leave a comment
They say the mage mist is just a by-product. Acceptable levels of thaumic leakage, they say. Unavoidable and harmless, they say. It’s not true, you know. None of it is true. It’s as alive as you or I. More alive than that Boxer over there, anyway. Oh, yes, it’s alive…and it speaks if you listen hard enough. On a quiet night you can hear it whispering sweet secrets and fortunes. It can whisper all night sometimes. All night long. Tales of other places and other times. Before the City. After the City, perhaps, when there’s nothing but trees and clouds.
Hah, you’re right. It does sound crazy. People always say it sounds crazy and maybe it is. Doesn’t stop it being true. The mage mist is a mouth. Or maybe it’s an eye. Maybe it’s both. A mouth and an eye that speaks as it sees and sees what it speaks. It’s all the same, really.
Crazy it might be but if you could get up close to it, up on the roofs, who knows what you might find, eh?