Do you ever feel as if the aspects of your life existed before you did? That your experiences, your memories and thoughts are an inheritance, passed down from generations before, originating somewhere and within something utterly inhuman at its genesis? That your experiences were but a small part of a larger design, that while your  body might have emerged kicking and screaming from within your mother, your soul and very essence was bared by something far grander, something ephemeral that can be felt but never touched, clamored for yet never truly grasped ?

I have long felt these things, remnants of an aspect aeons passed manifesting now in but a fraction of its original scope and majesty. Vermilion strands of time and being unraveling around and about in endless sprawling array, toward the heavens and sky above.   It would come with the joy I felt within another’s arms, or as a disparaging sorrow swelling within the face of some tragedy that felt so important at the time yet waned and scattered amidst the waves of time as the threads wove on.

The color you cannot see, the wind that flits about and around in intangible ebbs and flows. the river that courses unheard throughout the paths and ways of your life. The reflection cast in the stiller waters within you, where your soul finds resolution. The fire fostered by the struggles and triumphs that dwarf your very being, the light that radiates from the aspect’s manifestation and the shadow that blankets you in its outcome.

I have long walked with these things.Beheld their language uttered in forgotten tongues. Endured their trials and reaped the harvest of their fruition. The principalities that whisper and convey their design if we just lay down our thoughts, and listen.
Within these pages I hope to convey their message, the visions perceived when on the precipice of their cold fire and inspiration, that place in-between our perception and what lies just beyond. There is a knowledge and language far greater than us, a wisdom that is found only in the darkest catacombs of the soul, and it is here, that I hope to make those wisdoms known.

                                                                               Valhaske