I have seen the images arcane, whose meanings come later. Curious prophecies, which say one thing, but hide their true consequences. I suppose it is as God spoke to His chosen in riddles: diagrams that cipher into something only viewable from an angle like hindsight, the puzzles only time can solve. These are emblems of the aesthetics of God, the secret books where all noble knowables dwell. The clandestine structure behind all information. If we are lucky enough, we serve as conduits of primal things, larger than us in one way or another, the fluid of destiny. A patch in the fabric of eternity: threads that weave infinity somehow in our finite hands form shape, and texture: and we know without knowing how or why that some unfathomable truth has flowed through us, into being from the void.
