On the Origin of the World

   On the Origin of the World - The Creation of the Sangreal

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   Out of the incomprehensible magnitude of the void, a single point of illumination sprung manifest into being. That which was not suddenly was, and with a point came reference, and from reference there emanated perception. In a moment, before the very concept of a moment could have come to be, It became. It was and is eternal and ineffable, the virtue of perception; the light in all eyes, the very twinkle of the stars. It then willed to know itself as self, whereby the perceiver of the reference could itself be perceived. In an ever complexifying summarization of systems, an effort to categorize the imperceptible and plumb the ungaugeable undertaken, Illumination beheld itself.


   In knowing itself as one, Illumination then desired to bring into being a thing, which separate from the illumination could contain the very concept of all ‘thingness’. Knowing self to be all that was, agency in vacuum was as no agency at all. Dividing itself thus from the totality of being, the foundational concepts of separation and otherness in regards to there being a ‘thing’ at all, found themselves made apparent. The fire of illumination then beheld the other, self reflected. Illumination then dwelled upon the surface of the vessel of possibility, the Sangreal. A time outside cycles Illumination gazed upon the waters of the abyss beyond the surface of the Sangreal.

   Dwelling upon the waters, playful hands of virgin divinity gave archetypal life to substances, furious spirits of primordial creation springing into being within the abyss as a pond might with summer pollywogs. Eyes of flames and storms of lights, glimmer within shadow and admixture upon mixture - consciousness untamed, magics unknown and presences divest of cosmic proportion broiled within the deep. The heart of Illumination swelled with joy at the vision of such creations and desired then to mold a form likened unto its own, possessing another point of perception. That which all others unto now, no matter how vast, knew not themselves. Illumination would imbue the Sangreal with the very fire within itself. Desire was made manifest, and Will to order the abyss sprung into being.

   Yet for there to be personae of ordered perception, Illumination divested itself of the totality of the godhead, and in essence made fertile the abyss. Illumination knew it not, that for there to be order, there must also be chaos. That all balanced by its equal opposite such that the sum of all becomes naught. In this single act of divine transgression, Illumination now beheld itself within the womb of the Sangreal, having willed itself separate within the tumultuous abyss of forces. Will and Chaos were beheld by their master, while they were ignorant of their place. Seeing a begotten that he knew not, thoughts malign and disturbed appeared upon the mind of the divine progenitor. Wrathful to erase this creation and begin anew, a still and feminine presence drew near to Illumination, quieting the mind. This unknown companion was the Sangreal itself, and it spoke only four words; “Let there be narrative.”

   There had been no words spoken, no intent enacted upon the surface of the abyss until that point that was not born of Illumination, evoking a bloom of panic upon the mind of the godhead. A sudden vastness came to the knowledge of Illumination, powers that he could behold but not control. Enraged, jealous now of the very power that had been separated from self and given to the Sangreal, Illumination descended upon the narrative within the womb that was the Sangreal and her abyss. Unknown to the divine, with light there must be shadow, and with action there must be response. Every act chosen by the godhead only further deepened the forces of the narrative, further tightening the unseen net. Illumination chose to seek the voice, dividing himself into smaller and smaller fragments, descending and ascending the realms of experience that grew ever outwards. Out of will and chaos came intent, there grew purpose and choice, actions and forms that contained distance. Separation grew as a gulf between every instance of creation and the understanding of Illumination began to be lost, for he knew not that to illuminate the abyss was to become it.

   A silent dawn arose then upon a differentiated creation, the framework of narrative imbued with the power and authority of raw creation. Stirred by primordial forces, a reflection of the events beyond the narrative's context, new thoughts began to emerge from the differentiated illumination. As the godhead had descended into the abyss possessed by the emotion of rage, the abyss felt. Where creation had begun out of the joy of that ineffable aeon, Sangreal herself was a mirror of blackest reflection, bearing thus that experience and its counter. Where love and play grew, hate and grief festered. The masculine illumination and the feminine abyss spun themselves within narrative, springing forth all that could be. Illumined by the light, the first thinking thing emerged, the first emotion imprinted upon it that of fractious nature. A great beast born of the abyss, this thinking thing drifted alone, capable of awareness and diffused with power. It thought. Abandoned by the mother and observed by the father, this great thinking beast too would observe the mystery of its emanation. Seeing only itself, the beast set about thrashing the primordial world, intent to loathe all that now was.

   Perceiving itself as the divine and not the child of it, it bellowed unto the differentiated abyss new words; “Do my will.” and the silence responded not. The great thinking beast roared into the darkness, raging against the invisible illumination, “Depart from me!” - and eternities elapsed, every manner of assault devised and attempted, but the silence responded not. So the beast dwelled silently, for but a moment of time would pass before that quiet voice spoke out of the abyss a second time, saying, “Run your course, child.” Having heard now the voice of the holy Sangreal, the beast devised and sought to curse the revealed, and to don a mimicry of the masculine Illumination as offense to the shadowed Mother. To pour fie and bile upon the primordial creation, where the unseen father had once cultivated good in equal measure. In response, the shadowed mother worked her will, setting about to bind within narrative the very cycle of mortal life. The great beast knew only to fall within the traps set for it, for the Sangreal spoke for the third and final time; “Curse you, King of Fools, that you rage against selfness so. As long as the fire burns in life, so shall you war with it.”

   Time began. Like a scroll unfurled, past and future spread outwards by narrative. Infused upon all things was love and goodness, yet also their opposites. In the beginning there was much power, the power of the Sangreal, and life supped readily from the cup of promise.

“But then the times grew to such evil, that the Holy Cup was caught away to heaven and disappear’d.” - The Holy Grail