Sunday, 9 July 2017

Book of Esechar

In the valley of the spear there is talk of madness.  Fables burst from books, poems take shape before open eyes.  The Court of the Myriad say that Esechar is crawling from the well.  The devourer comes, they say.  To murder the king and his kiss.  Both king and kiss reside at the heart and eye of the valley, suspended, animated by all who dwell in the valley and consider themselves betrothed.  They pay homage to the slain queen and the kiss that enshrines her memory.  They say Esechar comes to murder his brother the king, that he will rise from the well and reach into the hearts of all who dwell there.  He will claw the very heart and eye of the valley until he finds his twin.  They say Esechar and his brother were born of promise and grace, great lights of a subtler realm.  They say Esechar defiled and killed his mother-sister the queen, in the moment before moments when his names were signs meaning brother, twin, dark one, left hand, guardian, keeper and spear of the valley.  He fell from both eye and heart and turned the spear of light on his own mother, who was also his sister and his brother's wife.  But the good king did not slay in shrieking vengeance the spear of the valley, his twin. Despairing the horror of his wife's violation and asking only, why? "For something other than perfection. For something other than what I am."

This was the first corruption.  Banished beyond the valley they say, into the well of uncreation.  Yet he comes again, as moon occludes sun.  Esechar, the ruined spear.  The poets and prophets speak of it.  His acolytes spill blood and rape into the well, invoking him.  But those who remember the moment before moments hold steadfast to the true tenets of the Myriad Court - that of the once slain and ever risen spirit.  To keep a brother and sister as you yourself would be kept, forever linked as the one and many of the Myriad in bonds of promise and grace.  The truest flame.  The spear be only a vassal for the light, crowned as it is by the good tidings of its indivisibility.  Esechar turned from this most holy fire, forfeiting the valley and its court of love, saying "I am unto all and there is nothing beyond me.  I shall slay as the spirit was slain before its rising, but I shall not rise.  I shall build a world unto myself in this image - the broken line."  And so the spear came to know blood rather than balance.  This was the ruination of the one they now call Esechar, the burnt one.  This was the birth of all enslaving gods.  But those who have kept the promise, through slain grace who anoints and is enshrined as a kiss, know that even as Esechar crawls from the well the kiss also comes among the hearts and eyes of all the faithful of the valley.  The slain and risen spirit dwelleth in them, and they speak every tongue, and grasp every story.  They fear not Esechar's coming, for they know of the indwelling light and fire that consecrated them, in the moment before moments when spirit knew itself as animate, eternal and ever-loving.  Slain and ever-risen.  I am but grace's fealty, a humble servant of the court and the valley, and I speak from the Book of Esechar.

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