A soul cannot understand something beyond it, something outside it. As a human is a human, it will never be able to come to the same level of understanding something Other unless it becomes that Other. Only by reaching infinitely closer for an extrinsic thing can Man have the right to a full evaluation of it.
As a result, Man cannot understand death.
There is a reason for this. To understand death is to trap yourself in a desolate era, to confront the weakness and hesitance of the world itself. Even the earth and sky would seem ready to shatter at the slightest provocation, the world standing firm as a mere illusion that could shatter with the slightest push. Men cannot understand death, for if they do, their souls will falter under its all-consuming gaze.
-And that is precisely why these souls are stripped of their "everything".
Standing in a formless void, It receives them with open arms. As they have experienced death, they can now understand death, so action must be taken. Its hands move, distorting the flow of the void with enough strength to invalidate the very concept of a world. Regardless of what Man believes, It does not carry the same standards of thought as Man; It is something Other, and as such, Man will never be able to understand It. As such, Man will never be able to understand the reason for what It chose to do next.
The void is pierced by searing light, burning away that which the souls have acquired, and returning them back to their first precept.
However, before the process is finished, It stops the light. The souls remain, perfectly cleansed save for a single point upon each of them, a single thing retained.
Man will never be able to understand why It chose to act. They can assign words to feelings codified by Man, and attempt to apply them. Curiosity, boredom, idleness, expectation, they can apply these ideals to It all they want, but that is foolishness at its finest.
Regardless, we have wasted enough time here.
And so It sent them on their way.
A flowing darkness surrounds all. A pure darkness unlike any other, impenetrable by anything that is or could be. There was no light, no sound, no motion. There was only that transcendent black, endlessly expanding in all directions. And yet...rather than disturbing, this eerie ocean of black was calming. Like the feeling a child has when closing its eyes to sleep, like the fading world at the end of a play. The darkness is embraced with open arms and hearts, taken in like air and water as the warmth it brings is recognized.
Light pierces the dark. A lance stabbed upwards from the Kingdom Below, the light pervades this space of tranquil knowledge. The darkness is burned away, twisted and perverted by the all-consuming light. Fear strikes, as just moments after embracing the blackness, it is forcibly torn away. The warmth is replaced by a burning pain. Born from the interplay of shadow and light, figures take form, but they cannot possibly be acknowledged. No, the only site of importance is this light, this damnable light that takes away everything.
The light cools. The scars left from its searing pain throb in the recesses of existence as their cause recedes. The light returns, but this time it does not crush the darkness; this time it merely illuminates what was present. Eyes cracking open for the first time. Formless figures who steadily take shape as the light is adjusted to, beings that aren't recognized but still feel familiar.
A single word takes form in the mind, not spoken in a language but in something more primal, something that appeals to the deepest part of existence.
"Goblin."
And before the crowd of these now-awakening bodies stands a lone figure, looking out over them, watching them with a tired eye.
Come now, we've wasted enough time already. No sense in wasting any more.
As a result, Man cannot understand death.
There is a reason for this. To understand death is to trap yourself in a desolate era, to confront the weakness and hesitance of the world itself. Even the earth and sky would seem ready to shatter at the slightest provocation, the world standing firm as a mere illusion that could shatter with the slightest push. Men cannot understand death, for if they do, their souls will falter under its all-consuming gaze.
-And that is precisely why these souls are stripped of their "everything".
Standing in a formless void, It receives them with open arms. As they have experienced death, they can now understand death, so action must be taken. Its hands move, distorting the flow of the void with enough strength to invalidate the very concept of a world. Regardless of what Man believes, It does not carry the same standards of thought as Man; It is something Other, and as such, Man will never be able to understand It. As such, Man will never be able to understand the reason for what It chose to do next.
The void is pierced by searing light, burning away that which the souls have acquired, and returning them back to their first precept.
However, before the process is finished, It stops the light. The souls remain, perfectly cleansed save for a single point upon each of them, a single thing retained.
Man will never be able to understand why It chose to act. They can assign words to feelings codified by Man, and attempt to apply them. Curiosity, boredom, idleness, expectation, they can apply these ideals to It all they want, but that is foolishness at its finest.
Regardless, we have wasted enough time here.
And so It sent them on their way.
A flowing darkness surrounds all. A pure darkness unlike any other, impenetrable by anything that is or could be. There was no light, no sound, no motion. There was only that transcendent black, endlessly expanding in all directions. And yet...rather than disturbing, this eerie ocean of black was calming. Like the feeling a child has when closing its eyes to sleep, like the fading world at the end of a play. The darkness is embraced with open arms and hearts, taken in like air and water as the warmth it brings is recognized.
Light pierces the dark. A lance stabbed upwards from the Kingdom Below, the light pervades this space of tranquil knowledge. The darkness is burned away, twisted and perverted by the all-consuming light. Fear strikes, as just moments after embracing the blackness, it is forcibly torn away. The warmth is replaced by a burning pain. Born from the interplay of shadow and light, figures take form, but they cannot possibly be acknowledged. No, the only site of importance is this light, this damnable light that takes away everything.
The light cools. The scars left from its searing pain throb in the recesses of existence as their cause recedes. The light returns, but this time it does not crush the darkness; this time it merely illuminates what was present. Eyes cracking open for the first time. Formless figures who steadily take shape as the light is adjusted to, beings that aren't recognized but still feel familiar.
A single word takes form in the mind, not spoken in a language but in something more primal, something that appeals to the deepest part of existence.
"Goblin."
And before the crowd of these now-awakening bodies stands a lone figure, looking out over them, watching them with a tired eye.
Come now, we've wasted enough time already. No sense in wasting any more.
Wake up.
