The legs of the leviathan, centipedal bodies entranced, march to the swaying of the lines of the sunset across water. All eyes blank, all bodies groaning microscopically with mechanical processes in such a way that the noises harmonise on a greater scale. The sound of planets, of windless nights.
We all serve as the army of a force beyond names and faces. Leviathan, shadow-bound Abyss, faces upon faces upon faces, even he serves that force. We all do. The same black is in all of our eyes. That Great Beast at the centre of all things that is only seen in the waves it makes, that shadow of all things.
Hail the Black Hole, the lifeless thing, source of all existence, united consciousness, the eyes of the wide-eyed foetal fish, the Dance-Maker with the Serpent as his drum. Stirring the milk waters is the hand of the hand of the hand of the (...) hand of that thing with no hands, that is nothing but hands, that hums endlessly in songs never repeated twice. Fingerprint god, god-beyond-gods. Trance-beyond-trances. Mother of Gravity. The blackest light in all of existence.
