Hush-a-bye
Don't You cry
Go to sleepy little filly
Go to sleepy little filly
When you wake
You shall have
All the pretty little mares
All the pretty little mares

Blacks and bays
Dapples and greys
All the pretty little mares

Heavy air a thickness, sound had died, frozen the stance and the clouding before her excited from her open entrance cave, the cold seeping into her throat, a blade dulled by cuts. The Kaaba floated before her, its smooth obsidian surface reflecting nothing, devouring light.

And then. Motion.

Seven golden lampstands materialized, blinking into existence and arranged in a perfect orbit around the cube. Their glow was warm, but distant, each one shimmering faintly and lit by the sacred flames upon them. They began to move, slow at first, then faster, circling the Kaaba like celestial bodies, their paths traced in golden arcs through the air around the cubeness.

The Kaaba itself began to turn, it's motion weighty with a slow push, in the opposite direction of the lampstands. The juxtaposition of the symmetry divine source. The black cube and the golden flames moved through the bounds of seer nor, rotation ritual, prophecy manifesting.

א

From above, the heavens opened. Anise.

It fell like rain, filling the air with its bittersweet aroma. The seeds spiraled gentle in the unseen currents which caught them and settled upon her mane, hurried into her fur with stains of the surface ground of cracked barren wholeness. Twilight titled her head up, watching as the anise descended in waves, a celestial downpour soft as silk, that as a dream.

Behind her, the darkness stirred and out came.

The mayflies, their wings glinting faintly in the dim light from the star bodies, followed by dragonflies and lastly the butterflies, thousands upon thousands of them, emerging in a wave from the abyssal black. Movements chaotic, massive swarm rising up, a spiral of proportions unknown, as trails of purpureal light followed them in bioluminescence trails. Ethereal and fleeting. Fluidness. The ground drone of flies
And horse flies and chestnut seas.

The Kaaba revolved faster now, it's mass utterly monumental massive anchor to this vision of revelation. The lampstands spun with greater urgency, their flames unwavering despite the acceleration of speed, casting giantess gigantic shadows across the plane. Unfolding in the biblical apocalypse in the sheer magnitude it poccessed. Luminescence.

Then it moved.

The Kaaba surged forward, its monolithic surface bearing down on Twilight with impossible speed. Yet she felt no fear, no instinct to flee, only the cold certainty of its arrival. The ground beneath her of what was once the part of the temple and stairway shuddered and then cracked as the Kabba pushed it away, displacing it effortlessly.

And Twilight rose.

The Kaaba lifted her, her hooves leaving the fractured ground. She met softly upon its obsidian surface, the chill of it cutting through her fur to the skin, a numbing, freezing. She pressed her hoof to the cube, it's texture smooth and endless, like she was touching the void itself.

Above her, the stars began to fall.

They cascaded from the black sea of the heavens, streaking across the sky like a meteor shower, light which exploded out and scattered which illuminated the basin in flashes of brilliance which burned the air with sulfur and moisture.

Around the cube, the swarm of insects moved like a great wheel, a cosmic mechanism grinding against the fabric of reality shaped from the inreality. The mayflies and butterflies and dragonflies rotated in opposing orbits, their flight paths erratic in glancing and precise at the looking, forming concentric circles around the Kaaba. Trails of light followed their wings, overlapping and interweaving like a tapestry was woving in the up.

Wheels. Wheels in the sky. The throne of Ezekiel. Ophanim inGalgallin.

Below all receded, the jagged cliffs and the ruins shrinking into significance as she rose higher, through the stars, through the falling meteors. The ascent was smooth, effortless, the Kaaba moved through a medium thicker then the invisible airy.

Around her ankles, horseflies buzzed in ringing. They swarmed but never landed, their presence an unsettling ringing at the edges of her hoovsies.

Unstoopble ascent, rotations accelerating, wheels upon wheels of colors that rip through light in the shattering of glass, the cube cut through the fabric of the very stars, through the sea of black specks and into the unknownun.

All felt still despite this motion, she was rested, staring wide eyed into the finite around her where the cosmos churned, reassembled patterns.

She did not move. She only watched as the Kaaba carried her through. Whilst her moon eats the day.

ουκετι

Archon.

A float in the still solitary ascent, carried by the Kaaba through the fabric of time, weaving existence together, to main, stars blurred into streaks where pinpoints of light smeared on the clothes of the canvas, benting and folding, geometric prims of reform. A cascade sideways, raining glass sideways, a deep oppressive and calming embrace of defied silence. The hips of the night. Back of the flanks. Through the lunadisc.

A slowed, slow, slower halt across an eternity, sensational, leveling out into an untouched kingdom of time to land.

Triangular emerged from the oil, surfaces unblemished from the oil which dripped upwards to the sticky ceiling of oil, stood in rows and stretching out in directions to no end, sharp dim ambient glow of sources, a shimmering barely reflective oil blot. Frequency.

That black tide surged, flowing in liquid mirrors, rippling of distortions which ate away at the oil, a thinner smoother substance which reflected backwards, a coldness seeping into the fur, oil appearing before the mane touched, submerged upwards, reverse order.

The Kaaba halted below the black waves, its surface gleaming one last time before it began to dissolve, shrinking into itself, piece by piece, consumed by the mirror which showed it vanishing, the monolith disappearing entirely without any sound or ceremony.

The water rose downwards, swallowing her in its reflective embrace to not let her fall.

For a moment, no ground, no air was felt, a sticky black pull of water and black liquid drawing her up, to resist is futile, weightless submersion in the cradle of liquid, a carry and then, a break. In the surface.

Her head broke the surface.

She opened her mouth, not gasping just opening, as she emerged outwards in one of the square-shaped pools which were scattered in an endless deep grey plane, a gradient of reflective black that was clear, mirrored the heavens above, each pool a perfect, an even grid that stretched beyond, dividing the plane into a maze of perfect geometry.

She pushed herself up, her body sluggish yet able to be controlled, and climbed from the pool. Her hooves basking in the grey surface, hooves still cold that were beneath, a polished stone of ambient light, she looked back down, reflection perfecta and clear without a wrinkle, a ripple in the force.

Ahead, an archaic structure loomed, walls of cement dotted along, with small gaps in between sharp slices.

In dragonflies and PussyWillows

šarrum ÉN

A sterile cool air, a deep breath, untouched by time cement, pressing forward into the stone with no marks, grids of pools, alignment offset by the walls ahead.

The black ocean receded into the ground from the pool she emerged, like layers stretched behind, an infinite mirror. Forever.

The copper sun
Tarnishes with the year's tears
The golden golden copper sun
Old eldest dead
Over the blue milky seasky
Loss and lost and losing
Do not weep
All this is passing
All the birds wing and fall
Through the heavens
The cloudy clouds
Of snow of dew and of smoke
A shuddering reflection
Vanishing with the dropped stone
I wait under the spaces
Under the molten starrain

Have you treated yourself to her golden milk?

Author's Note