[Main] Scribblings found on the underside of a tile

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MrJWhit
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[Main] Scribblings found on the underside of a tile

Post by MrJWhit »

We are but termites and worms festering upon the great vastness of the house of aether. We sit in our metal shell content with our air and our small curiosities. We gaze upon the vastness of aether and our cups overflow with the intricacies of multidimensional galactic travel through rocks. We mastered intellect upon our own bodies to create pull the dead from their rest, revitalizing meat that thanks us for our service. We do not yet know the innate power that He brings. We squabble in the dirt for bluespace crystals and plasmasmatic ore, with the highest praise for understanding that breaking chemical combinations creates lightning. Take your hand and break the forearm of the nearest being with sufficient bones, and you will also show the vastness heat and noise.
But, take time and listen to what hymns in the echos of the cesarean section of our universe. The quiet harmonics that we reach for every meter we climb further from rock. With sufficient time, and sufficient focus, the Truth flows through those dull chants in the back of the skull. We have seen new forms of life in the house of aether, strange beings made of rock, phlegm, and shadows, all of which were pacified as worms before termites. He is the master of the house and they have been away while we infest every spot of dirt, and the aether around.

One day.
He will return.
Pray you are not noticed.
He will return.

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