From inside the Void

"here's looking at you, kid,"

line said by Rick Blaine (Humphrey Bogart) in the 1942 film Casablanca, الدار البيضاء The White House ― where Rick owns a nightclub and gambling den "Rick's Café Américain" 

Introspector, by Gibert Williams

'ॐ無『ohne Gravitas』& 有 『manifested presence/counterpart』

The Invisible Dancer & its Manifestation

विष्णु Viṣṇu in ब्रह्मांडीय महासागर Cosmic Ocean, as ब्रह्मन् Bráhma is born from a Golden Lotus Flower। पिचवाई Pichavai

䷗復、䷵歸妹、二十四、五十四、歸還

Not so much restitution, a return ― than a reversing ― a totally different overview

I•C•U/I 'M•U & I

Drip. Drip. The only sounds that permeated the thick fog echoed in the darkness. The void of the area seemed to pulsate with a specific rhythm, throbbing with both the presence of life and death. Drip. Another drop fell to the floor, reflecting the third trauma of the day. It added to the already-ominous pool on the floor, seeming to glow with a crimson haze as it dissipated. A chill flowed through the area, rendering it even more damaged than it was before.

Thump. Thump. Two more isolated noises pierced the silent atmosphere. Two more wounds dealt to the fragile shell sheltering this area of the void. The air quivered with tension as it experienced fresh shockwaves of anguish. The damage was irreparable. Nothing could replace all that was lost with those two impacts.

It started losing itself, its form becoming misshapen and mutilated. The outer edges of its carapace groaned with the stress being placed on it from outside. Cracks appeared as one side twisted and contorted into unrecognizable shapes. Drip. Drip. Drops fell again, faster and faster, rapidly flooding and just as quickly draining. There was no end to the loss. Whenever the area filled with lifeforce again, it was already being emptied by an unseen hand reaping darkness wherever its foul appendages reached.

It expanded, then contracted. Thump. Thump. Thump. Drip. Drip. Crackle. With each new collision with outer forces came more damage. It cried out in vain, trying to find a way to stop all of it from happening. It searched for the reasons that it was forced into endless cycles of loss and renewal. And it came up with nothing.

Whoosh. It plummeted. The dark nothingness inside of it trembled as its contents spilt away and were renewed again. The crimson fluid would fall and fall. Emotions surged uncontrollably within the emptiness. What was left off? Could it be salvaged at all?

A new fluid began coursing through the area. It seemed to be a vast ocean of tears, those both kept hidden and those let free to dwell on the cheek of he who created them. It rushed through the place, mingling with the other contents of the void. There, they merged, and from that emerged an aura. An aura that glowed with all of the feelings and emotions pent up inside. The darkness was replaced by an unnatural glimmer, red in hue and small compared to that which existed just out of the reach of this unholy place.

The new mixture congealed and had a healing effect on the area. Holes were sealed. Cracks were covered and cemented. Every contortion and unusual bend were gradually turned back to their usual shapes and sizes. Then the liquid dissolved.

― For what seemed like the longest time, the void had become a paradise. Where once only death had lurked, the essence of joy and life had eked out an existence. It was as if the whole area had never been in the limbo it was before, devoid of anything remotely resembling happiness. It prospered and delighted in its glory, overabundant with laughter and charm ―

Damage can not be prevented, only lessened. And of course, nothing is invincible. Therefore the peace and harmony were disrupted eventually, although not as terribly as they once had been. But this time, there exists a barrier between the soul and the outside world that has injured it so many times. The barrier of wisdom.

―  OneTrueQ, Aug 26, 2004