How can I, with my limited senses, my paltry consciousness trapped in the temporal, hope to comprehend the being behind it? Is this a glimpse beyond the veil, or merely a trick of the light, a cruel jest played by my own mind, a butterfly caught in a spiderweb of its own making?
I didn’t expect I’d ever come to this shimmering crack in time, where the very air thins and wavers, and putting a face to this name becomes a task beyond the grasp of my finite, mortal mind.
The world, fractured realities. Possibilities, unseen, unlived. Time, a serpent devouring its own tail.
This name, this whisper from the abyss, it tugs at the edges of my perception. A phantom limb yearning for something that transcends mere touches.