The Scrawled Drafts of Mari Blacke

[Mari]

My Lady waits in the far places. The dark places. Beyond exhaustion, beyond agony, beyond ecstasy. Past endurance and reason She bides and to those who find Her there, She whispers. The vessel that you empty, She will fill. The cup upturned becomes Her temple.

There are those who speak of such things as Auguries. Prophecies. There is no future that can be predicted. Nothing is set. The idea of 'that which will be' is illusory. Forever mutable. Forever out of the reach of the moment. A revelationist, I illumine the path for those who would seek. I am the revelationist and between the stars yawns my Lady- the Revelation! The future cannot be seized, only the present. It is in the moment that all things are possible. It is in the moment that the dream can be made Real.

She shows you what Can be. You must make it so. The stars do not shine, but you do. The Moon casts no ray but, resplendent, you reflect Her glory.

[Mari]

A final draft of a sermon is tucked away here, a copy having been tendered to the Temple after its delivery on the steps, woven together with much of her previous work.

By the grace of My Lady Between the Stars I am a guide to those who seek. Though I do not burn, I am Her torch. Though I cast no light, I illumine the way. I am Mari Blacke, Gellemede.

Greetings, dreamers. You who gaze in wonder and fear at the world conjured about you. Though it is harsh, you struggle. Though it would test you, you endure. You strain against the dream- and know that it is so that we walk in a dream. Nothing here is real.

...yet.

The dream cannot survive without its dreamer, but how does a dream die? The waking have left that behind and bear no witness. What psychopomps await the vestiges that remain? The sands howl, the ash burns, walls crumble. Around us it withers.

It is said that the Disc was a dream, once. The land dies. But -you- endure! -You- struggle! The dream awaits a new dreamer to make it Real again. A path forward, whispered by my Lady. Know this!-

The stars do not shine but -you- do.

The moon does not glow but -you- do.

The sun does not blaze, but -you- do.

This is the magic of the Dream. This is -your- magic. The skies are dark if not for the light -you- cast. The Moon casts no ray but, resplendent, you reflect Her glory.

There is a path forward. For we live in the moment. And to live in the perfect moment, is to live perfectly. Eternally. The ascendant immanent. It is through the pursuit of this moment the Dream can be made forever real. Affixed. Triumph unshackled beyond consequence, beyond judgement, beyond loss. The illusions of the Dream abjured and its fabric made True. Made Real.

You will GLEAM like the stars!

You will WAX like the Moon!

You will BURN like the Sun!

For an ETERNAL instant you will SHINE eternally in your SHINING world!

They say the stars are the domain of Izdu and it may be so. They say that the Moon is the domain of Kula and it may be so. It is in the hidden places between, though, that My Lady resides. The darkness between the stars yawns wide and, at times, it smiles. She smiles.

What prayers you have to offer, she will take. Your fears you offer, She will take. Your doubts you offer, She will take. The night is vast all that holds you back from your moment might be collected and hidden away from the dream within. Through her unlit paths, I guide you. The vessel you empty, She will fill. The cup, upturned, becomes Her temple.

I am Mari Blacke. I am Her torch. Take my words in hand and walk between the stars.

[Mari]

Acclaim, adoration. To be truly seen, loved and lauded. Surrounded, admired.


An invincible warrior, defender, the bulwark on which the world breaks.


To put pen to page, merge all stories into one. To contain the dream in a single tale.


Mastery. Cunning and dedication transmuted into a symbol of victory beyond reproach.


To crack, strain and stretch anew. Spread wings and heave off the dusty earth.


~~~

Between the stars, keep their dreams. Let your darkness yawn wide and swallow them.

[Mari]

To stretch and grasp and strive. Ambition untethered by fear or doubt or regret. The way between the stars. The perfect moment must be sought with conviction. With drive. I watch my faithful, fired by Her word, and I am made proud.

I am Her torch. I do not burn but Gellema has set me alight. It is not given to me to walk the path, but to encompass my duties I must be no less. The vasty darkness of the sky contains multitudes and so, too, must Her guide. The darkness yawns wide and smiles and so, too, must I.

[Mari]

The candle is unlit. There is no fire.

But it shines

and it consumes

and it calls.

The call of the moment, of perfection. Through the dark places, into the unseen flames.

[Mari]

Dolls nested

               within dolls

                             within dolls.

             Between, around and behind the stars...
         
                           Her smile.

[Mari]

We steal into hidden places to find you, to hear you. We push ourselves beyond our limits for, beyond them, you reside. Elusive. Illusive. Your subjects bid you come out of the dark, adored. But, elusive, you must be sought. Illusive, you cloak even as you reveal. We exhaust ourselves, empty ourselves. We make of ourselves a temple as dark as between the stars and, miraculous, you reside within us in the moment. One with revelation.

Seek the ecstatic states. Beyond exhaustion. Beyond reason. Beyond pain. Beyond regret. Beyond fear. Beyond consequence. Push past. Push through. Be received.

Gellema awaits.

[Mari]

[a scrawled poem. Crossed and edited lines before it show the couplet that has seen some revision.]

Behold wing-stretched reaching stratum climbers, words stirring fires they don't know.

Climb on precious, striving passion seekers, the air is thinner the higher you go.

[Mari]

[Another eulogy draft]

My Lady dwells in absence. When I spoke to Kyana of this, she inquired, jesting, if she was not an embodiment of my Lady Between the Stars, as bereft as she had often felt of a greater purpose. Alienated as those she once called comrades grew apart from her.

And in recognizing this emptiness, she was indeed blessed of Gellema, for in this realization did she seize control of her desires and cast aside that which needed to be cast aside. Quietly in Her name did she strive.

Kyana sought to push her limits. To explore and chart to the edges of the Disc, and beyond. To test her mettle as far as it would go. She pushed her limits and went beyond them. Beyond us. Beyond reprisal, doubt, regret, judgment or consequence.

Did you find your moment in those last fateful hours amongst us? Did the emptiness within yawn wide and smile? I pray it was so. May Gellema keep you, Kyana. Dreamer. May she hide you between the stars, free at last from this dream.

[Mari]

To weather the vales of loss, wrench meaning from the pyre and find a new meaning, a new path.

To seek and chart the paths and limits, within and without, to push until the breaking.

Companionship and lucre, sea and sail. The romantic dream beneath the rime.

To forge a kingdom anew. Cast away the ashes of the old and and be unfettered by its failure.

To hide what must be hidden, don mask and cloak to deliver Her will.

~~~

Between the stars, keep their dreams. Let Your darkness yawn wide and swallow them.

[Mari]

[poetry, worked over again and again to perhaps no real satisfaction]



                                        See stars shine but cast no light

                                                 Adrift, enmeshed in the vale of night
     
                                                          Incandescent, calling- the eye is bidden
 
                                                                      Whilst in between what must hide is hidden

[Mari]

Desire. In the dream the heart yearns, and it reaches. All have wants, but to know the truth of your own heart is a difficult thing. A heady thing. To look within and cast aside all shades and self-deception. To look with eyes unclouded. Unscaled. See your heart for what it is. See you for what you are. Accept it. Embrace it. Champion it.

Do you roil in turmoil, dreamer? Unsure of what it is you wish, what it is you want? Directionless, adrift? By my Lady's grace I am a guide. I am Mari Blacke, Gellemede of my Lady Between the Stars. Seek me and walk the paths of your heart. In the darkness between find the truth of your heart. Empty a part of it for Her.

[Mari]

Look upon my works, my Lady.

Smile.

[Mari]

To spite those who have belittled and mocked you. To make the pampered proud squirm.

To climb in Her name, the hidden footholds, the paths obscured in darkness.

To scream challenge and dare the world to break you for it. And in being broken, be reforged.

The knowledge and power to save this dying dream and, in doing so, to return to the one before.

Ecstasy and revelation. To empty the vessel in grand revel and make home for the divine.

~~~

Between the stars, keep their dreams. Let your darkness yawn wide and swallow them.

[Mari]

[A draft of Mari's speech in the wake of the Stele being marked to Gellema]

Rejoice! Rejoice! My children beneath the night sky! The darkness between the stars yawns wide and it smiles! Gellema smiles! In Her arms Ephia's Well is embraced, misfortune cast aside and outward. What must be hidden shall hide. A grand portent!

Our enemies will find their works a'crumble. Our weaknesses hidden from searching blades. She is ambition! She is inspiration! See your heart with eyes unclouded! Know that your -soul- has a -shape- if you've the will to perceive it! Seek! Live! Drink! Dream!

I am Mari Blacke, High Priestess of My Lady Between the Stars, Gellema. The Sabotage. If this be an age of Ruin, let it not be -our- Ruin. If the storm must rage, let Ephia's Well sit in the eye of it, sublime. And those of the Wheel, take heart-

To exalt the spoke of our Lady is not to discard the rest. B'aara shall yet mend the broken. The stars of Idzu yet twinkle while fierce Kula's Moon reflects Her glory beside. The Warrior's arrow will find purchase. The Wroth yet find His revenge.

The Twindarii will shepherd the dead. Warad will watch as we chart our paths. And over and through and between and around it all- Gellema. Let yourself be set alight though you will not burn. Take us in hand as a torch and save this dying land, this dying dream.

Empty a place for Her in your hearts as we have. You need not walk this dream alone. The vessel you empty, She will fill. The chalice- upturned- becomes Her temple. The cup by which we will restore the wastes. Rejoice. Live. And Dream well. Dream fiercely.