[ on the ground are flowers of complete perfection; flowers that are the flowers that our flowers of the world might become, so well realized are the petals and the centers and the colors. The colors themselves are so distinct and so finely delineated that he'd be unsure suddenly that our spectrum was even involved, as if there were some other set of rules. Or it was merely an expansion, a gift of being able to see combinations of color which are not visible chemically on earth.
The waves of laughter, of singing, of conversation, become so loud as to overwhelm his other senses; he feels blinded by sound suddenly; and yet the light lays bare every precious detail.
Great leaves surround them gently waving to and fro, and Azrael smiles, reaching to stop him from trying to touch anything, from trying to grab any of the magnificence. ]
Look. Look at them. Look!
[ she turns his head forcibly to stare right into the multitudes. And he perceives that these are alliances he's witnessing, clans that were gathering, families, groups of kindred, or true friends, beings whose knowledge of each other is profound, creatures who share similar physical and material manifestations. And for one brave moment, one brave instant, he sees that all these beings from one end of this limitless place to the other are connected, by hand or fingertip or arm or the touch of a foot. That, indeed, clan slips within the womb of clan, and tribe spreads out to intersperse amongst countless families, and families join to form nations, and that the entire congregation is in fact a palpable and visible and interconnected configuration! Everyone impinges upon everyone else. Everyone draws, in his or her separateness, upon the separateness of everyone else. It's dizzying, near to collapsing, but Azrael holds him, whispering fiercely. ]
Look again!
[ Yet with this powerful sight comes the unsettling realization of his own sense of separateness. Yet each and every being he sees is separate - fully individual still, even within this massive collective. ]
no subject
The waves of laughter, of singing, of conversation, become so loud as to overwhelm his other senses; he feels blinded by sound suddenly; and yet the light lays bare every precious detail.
Great leaves surround them gently waving to and fro, and Azrael smiles, reaching to stop him from trying to touch anything, from trying to grab any of the magnificence. ]
Look. Look at them. Look!
[ she turns his head forcibly to stare right into the multitudes. And he perceives that these are alliances he's witnessing, clans that were gathering, families, groups of kindred, or true friends, beings whose knowledge of each other is profound, creatures who share similar physical and material manifestations. And for one brave moment, one brave instant, he sees that all these beings from one end of this limitless place to the other are connected, by hand or fingertip or arm or the touch of a foot. That, indeed, clan slips within the womb of clan, and tribe spreads out to intersperse amongst countless families, and families join to form nations, and that the entire congregation is in fact a palpable and visible and interconnected configuration! Everyone impinges upon everyone else. Everyone draws, in his or her separateness, upon the separateness of everyone else. It's dizzying, near to collapsing, but Azrael holds him, whispering fiercely. ]
Look again!
[ Yet with this powerful sight comes the unsettling realization of his own sense of separateness. Yet each and every being he sees is separate - fully individual still, even within this massive collective. ]