Disenchantment

And then it struck, like an infinitely-black bolt of laughter, rousing my infantile soul from a florescent field of lily-pads; Shiva balanced me with all 8 arms, and said “ahh, but now, my son, you’ll see.”

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A life of beatific vision.

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Shiva decapitates Kali and returns to the temple of the Atman with the octopus’s corpse; yielding a moment of unwavering silence. Then, Vishnu points to the horizon: an eagle soars, screeches and perches at the shoulder of Brama.

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“With a threefold thunderous laughter, the game begins again,” Vishnu explains.

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Shiva disintegrates into the wind; a glimmer of stardust.

Brama chooses his mask.

Vishnu inks his quill.

We have no clue of the battle endured to win our body; maybe — just maybe — it was a magical battle, like the one where we earned interdimensional consciousness.


Be Infinite

brose

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