To do my civic duty! Don’t forget to head out there, my lovely Illinoisan counterparts. That goes for you too, Missouri-, Ohio- and Florida-folks! I don’t care who you vote for (except maybe Trump, you guys can just hang out somewhere else…..), but go VOTE!

The primaries are just as (if not more) important than the general election!!!

qedavathegrey:

qedavathegrey:

Foreword: I’ve always had the desire to write my beliefs down in the form of a book. Admittedly, it’s always proven quite the task, because – while I know what it is that I want to say, I’m often stumped by the manner in which I want to say it. In the past, I have tried (vehemently) to write in as objective a manner as I can – to (very) little avail. And the other day, driving (the setting where most of my best ideas are formed) I decided that perhaps I should be taking a note from the countless faiths before me and approach it in a poetic (though not necessarily in the form of poetry) way. As soon as I began, I understood the great need to personify these forces – which I did. So, today, I sat down and typed a test run, just to see how it would play out and I’m happy to say it was far simpler than I expected. Of course, I was just typing, so while I edited spelling errors, the rest remains pretty much the same. 

We’ll call this an extremely rough draft:

---

All were born in fire – a great expansive proclamation forged
in cyclical whim, devout equally to the flames of creation and destruction. It
is a force that remains: ever-spinning the heavenly bodies on their own unique
axes, expelling the cosmos further into the uncharted oblivion. This force – so
vast – remains yet, billions of years after the universal birth and from it,
sprung the potential for life – a means by which this expanse might experience
its own being. We are this meditation, this introspection and adhere –
knowingly or otherwise – to a grand hierarchy of existence and consciousness.
The stars may not know of their own heat – but we do.

If we must give unto this force a name, I will call her:
Nexus, for it is known that all things begin in the likeness of our Mother –
female. It was she who consolidated all matter and energy, gathered in an
infernal vortex, and expanded in a great flash of color, light, and splendor. And
this volcanic existence was her womb as well her form: every element funneled
from the great expanses – back from whence they came, to the Cosmic Pangea –
plucked from the vast darkness by the Voids, wherein even light might not be
spared. And these beings fed – and yet feed – Nexus, the Mother. She resides,
fragmented throughout all that is known and unknown, but at the site of
creation – the Heart of the Universe – the Voids return these pieces, tessellating
every element and experience garnered by separation. This Heart is but a nexus
in itself, a liminal place where all planes of reality collide – as such, it is
not simply the Heart of our own
Cosmos, but every existence, every
planar dimension.

And she is Nexus –
Mother: Spring of Existence;
She of Red-Skin, she
of Light,
Our Mother and
Destroyer,
Lady of Infinite Eyes,
who might see
Herself – Anew;
Dressed in white hot,
plasmic fire
Draped in scarves of
galaxies,
And Matron of the
Stars
Tended by the Black
Maidens,
Sentries of the Boundaries,
Who produce before her
fractured feet,
The pieces shed in
jubilant fervor –
As she cast herself out
–
And birthed the worlds
innumerable

At the Heart of All, these pieces – beginning first with the
remnants of the Great Expansion – are distributed, continuously feeding this growing
form matter and energy until its mass might overturn its own creation force – when it
grows so vast, so large, that it begins to reverse its own Expanse, drawing –
instead – its remaining constituents homeward, back toward the Nexus, tugged at by an insatiable, gravitational hunger. It is her Rebirth, her mosaic reformation – as her
great force crushes as every piece and draws into itself every manner of
matter. All must return to the forge from whence it was wrought – with the
knowledge that in time, it, too, will be reborn at the time of the Next Age, the Expansion –
for it (like most things in existence) is cyclical.

And if we must erect
around her a mythology, then let it be this:

Nexus – the Goddess of
Creation and Destruction – when in her incendiary form (in times of Creation
and Destruction) bears crimson skin, bright and glowing like that of molten
metal, nude and without genitals (for she is
Creation). Her hair is in constant motion, swimming in the vacuum of space. She
stands ever-silent with a face so still it could well be but a mask. Dually she
is loving and violent, existing as all things, she is the spectrum of morality
as we see it – though entirely free of its confines. While her form may be
perceived, it is but a guise – she is everything and nothing, she is force and
she is matter, she is the ripple and the soundless echo, the supernova and dust.
She might be equated with Shakti – in many of her manifestations.

Hymn of Nexus

She stands on the
ellipsis plane:
A sheet of crystal –
glass –
Running with liquid
gold
That emanates from
the wells of her feet –
She is the ripple –
& she is the echo
And from the edges
the metal cascades
Into the vacuous
chaos;
Unbound by gravity –
Hanging in liquid
droplet stars;
She is the crumbling
statue
Constantly shattered
–
and Reforming
Of every shard
particle or
Planet grain of sand;
 
And as she dips one
finger in the pool beneath her feet –
Every atom of her
being is hurled into the oblivion
If sound could
travel, it would be symphonic –
           grand and beautiful
But there is but
silence as each piece dazzles –
           bound by golden tethers –
Sent to every edge,
then halted:
Each piece bears her
face;
 
In the simultaneous
darkness
And blinding light,
the cords tighten
And begin to spin –
so quickly,
So precisely that
they might only be
Perceived as one
golden egg –
The age is marked and
the filaments
Coil, bringing with
them every minute piece –
            Home;
And the molten
elements
And heated gases
collide
Casted again in their
familiar
Feminine form –
 
She is Nexus –
Mother: Spring of Existence;
She of Red-Skin, she
of Light,
Our Mother and
Destroyer,
Lady of Infinite Eyes,
who might see
Herself – Anew;
Dressed in white hot,
plasmic fire
Draped in scarves of
galaxies,
And Matron of the
Stars
Tended by the Black
Maidens,
Sentries of the
Boundaries,
Who produce before
her fractured feet,
The pieces shed in
jubilant fervor –
As she cast herself
out –
And birthed the
worlds innumerable

During intermediary times
– while her form is splayed all across the countless spheres of existence – she
may be perceived as a white-stone statue, shattered and pieced back together
with the same molten substance as before – now solidified into gold. She is
swathed in white fabric, and holds a golden astrolabe with which she surveys
the stars (or, herself, rather). She wears a crown and her hair is as black as
the vacuum that surrounds, eyes the same gold as the veins that comprise her.
It is in such a state that she is more fluid, more “human” – occupying the
Ellipsis Plane. Therein she is tended by the Voids, her Handmaidens, who are
dressed entirely in black – specifically, long gowns that cover their entire
body from the neck down: sleeves turn into gloves, synched at the waist and
cascading to the ground. Over their head they wear black veils – like mourners
– and remain ever vigilant to the whims of the Goddess. It is they who rule the
Darkness and all the Spirits therein.

The Plane is a vast, flat
sheet of crystal/glass, transparent if not for the constant tide of gold that
emanates from the feet of the Goddess, flowing like a fountain across its
entirety and cascading over the edges into the vacuum – where it then forms
into droplets and scatters itself across the black sky. This is her domain, her
observatory – where she collects every experience her “pieces” survive/suffer –
and it is through the eyes of the living that she comes to understand: not simply
her own existence, but the notion – which in her infinite form, unbound by
limitation cannot be concieved – of physicality, law, emotion, mortality, fear,
and transience. For to be infinite – finite concepts cannot be known, and vice
versa. And it is this notion that will resurface again and again – the
separation of finite and infinite.

But Nexus – despite her
given purpose as Creator of All – is not the First Mother. She was birthed by
the Darkness, the black abysmal space in which nothing was but an emptiness. Before the time of matter, mass and energy –
before the time of light – before time: there was Darkness – there was The
Black Mother.

It was she – of
shapeless, formless, nonexistence – that drew the Nexus from the nothingness
and, in this act of martyrdom, destroyed herself so that existence might be. It
was she who dreamed the Nexus into being, and it was She – the personification
of nothingness – who had to be destroyed before anything could ever be. So dreamed – if only for a moment –
and from nothing was born everything. And now – in the Age of the
Nexus – wherein she might create, she drew from her own existence the recesses
and named them in her mother’s honor – these hollow spaces and the embrace of
the abyss: the Black Mother lived again, in the emptiness – in the Voids, as
loyal servant to her own daughter.

She is the embodiment
of disembodiment; this vacuous blackness that resides. She is empty space, she
is the furthest recesses of the cosmos, whereupon light has never touched, she
is the black upon which the stars are hung and cosmos shrink. Her flesh is that
of the Nightmare – endless darkness, palpable and serpentine – but never forget
that it was she who birthed the light, who allowed for matter and energy to
exist in her – and the one who sacrificed herself to create the Creator. She is
the Progenitor of Creation – and the Successor to Ultimate Destruction.

Fin!

If you’ve already submitted, you’re in! The first set should be going up… Well, any minute!

qedavathegrey:

I’m opening up the asks and fanmail (I love saying that, but – in reality – they were never closed): Need a sigil? Toss an idea my way! For the next hour, I’ll be here with my trusty pen and paper, waiting to take your requests!

I’ll post them all up and tag you (unless marked otherwise) – as soon as the hour is up!

Let the sigil-games begin!

Don’t worry, guys! Though I’m not answering, I’m still getting your messages! And I’m drawing just as quick as my little hand will let me!

No, darling, there’s still plenty of time!! I’ll put you down! ❤