the strange strange salamander sauntered into a cave
she felt ever so curious and ever so brave
but what she found there changed her life for good
the sky lit all up, and the ground it shook
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you choose to think of it as real is of course, your own decision. As it is with all things in this world.
Now, lean yourself back, as far as you can go without falling over. Stare straight up into the rafters, where would ordinarily be held the backdrops and such of the theater. There, you will see her, hanging from the ceiling and bound by locks of iron that glow an inky purple; a woman 10, 20 times the size of you or I. Her limbs are long, and her nails sharp. Sharp enough to scratch out of the locks, if she so chose, but for a god, sometimes imprisonment is itself a blessing. From the sides of her head sprout horns which glow that same glow, only darker, and branch like antlers, crook and sprawl until they cover so much of the space ahead of her. Her face, itself, is blank, and without feature or even color. The only mark upon it is a dark mark, like the keyhole of a lock, through which a flickering eye can sometimes be seen.
In your mind's eye, you see it. This is the Sightless Lock, our bound mother of secrets. She borrows many names, but has none of her own. I have called her---and she has accepted---the masks of Okina, Ashenzari, and Miss Abigail, but none of these names are hers and hers truly, for the Mother of the Sightless Lock's true name is known only to herself.
Her demesne, vast as the sky and wide as the ocean, is the Yet-to-be-Known. Secrets, uncertainty, places that are not Here, and times that are not Now. Some would balk at the idea, but what this means is that she is the god of Potential. When I asked her, begged her for a scripture, she said to me, not in words but in forms, YOU KNOW OF TWO ALREADY. She gave me four words and a direction to a third book, I intend to read it very, very soon.
observation and he answered that it was reproduced in The
Anglo-American Cyclopaedia, in its article on Uqbar. The house
(which we had rented furnished) had a set of this work. On the
last pages of Volume XLVI we found an article on Upsala; on
the first pages of Volume XLVII, one on Ural-Altaic Languages,
but not a word about Uqbar.
Hoho, look at this.
Meinong's subsistent world) abounds in ideal objects, which are
convoked and dissolved in a moment, according to poetic needs.
EDIT: Ah, Wikipedia---our very own Akashic Records, really---puts forward that Ezra Buckley is a doll of Ezra Pound, this makes an amount of sense.