Eyes that pierce the realms, lenses of mysticism engrained in his mortal form.
What beats in his chest ripples through ether, time and space.
Fantasy is not in his vocabulary.
Dream gates and hell scapes.
Asunder and the absolution of metaphysical putty, taking form indescribable, the beings existing as scapes hugging him in their spherical defense.
The eye of Providence, watching in a scowl while the eye of Horus leers in protection of the young man whose lifetimes transcend the race of man.
Of Nyarlathotep, Quetzalcoatl, Cthulhu, of cenobite and demons do his visions show the young visionary clairvoyant.
Of angels and beings of love does he see solemnly, yet feels at all moments.
Fearlessness in the face of the Eldridge does his heart stabley whimper in a cold stare of once before witnessing in his universal waltz.
His lifetimes of priesthood and self sacrifice.
Heart true, protected and defied by forces of heaven and hell, and much worse.
Yet, as the wicked elder gods lay dead but dreaming, drinking the voids of those that summon in dark places unheard, angels and much greater forces of powerful love rush toward danger, death and sorrow in wakeful promise.
Only evil often shows it face.
That, one can be sure of in realms of sunless awe.
© Sebastian Grey