(no subject)

The sun rises as a hideous beast, sets as a priest, rises as a meal
Again the champion hunts it, kills it, consumes it, rises in a vast and terrible piety for the champion to betray its own starving flesh upon
Again it learns its own charm
Again it dies in the teeth of fear.
We have much to learn.

There is no grain and there is no salt and there is no river of sweetness, in truth.
The things that seem to us like these things, they are other things
And they are things no one can eat.
Eating a thing causes a change in it and in the eater of it and the things made of light and joy only, only for us, they can neither be changed or eaten.
We starve in the garden.
The garden starves.

The sun rises as a hideous beast, a meal no one can consume, as light and joy. The air rises.
The waters rise.
The champion rises, reaching for a weapon.
Everything, all of it made only for us, rises past our reach again in a vast and terrible piety.
Among stones, airless, light and joy pass from their place around us, and we are stones ourselves, stones made of light and joy.
We learn our own charm.