When in dream

When in dream where none is real
When in dream, where in dream
Where in dream is found true truth
Where in dream, why in dream
Why in dream is glass transparent
Why in dream, how in dream
How in dream is dream unending
When in dream where none is real

So did one Tan Angerer speak. Noone heard, noone saw. Oh, oh, ayem, ohm! These were sayings of ancient belief, of kingdoms come, of kingdoms gone. Only loss is gain, only loss!

Krim, you of old! Shed light, shine bright. I am alone, sisterless, brotherless, without family, father to none, child of darkness. I pray, Krim, and you do not answer. I pray, Krim, I pray!

This is the ancient tale: One wandered in woods, without torch, without soul. One snapped branches, shed tears, all future broke before him. “Fuj, what thick woods are these!” All future, all past, all was in view of the wanderer, all was in mist.

I never saw him again. Not in dream, not under star nor sun. May darkness guide him, as only darkness can. Why in dream, Krim, why only in dream?

Advertisements

The Meridian of von Struve, Madman

A shout: “Friedrich, cross not this threshold lightly!”

– Diary of René Hudderson, expedition member

meridian

From the fields of Romania fertile, through old Balticum, and in extremes to the distant northlands: Friedrich Georg Wilhelm von Struve set out to chart the earth.

His sextant, clock and compass were true, perhaps, but what of his soul, what of that internal navigator? Von Struve spent his autumn years in some southern sanitorium. Little is known of his demise. He spoke so rarely of those final days of the expedition. What did you do, von Struve, in those Dictum Borderlands?

A prayer for lost,
a hymn to the wanderer.
A song of encompassing
darkness, unresting.

He who would leave
a virgin forest of faith
to seek forbidden knowledge
will surely find it.

Bless him still,
that traveler
on true paths,
yet deceived.

Bless him.

– Prayer of Jurij the Priest

Krim Fundamentals – Insomnia and insanity

weeping for it is

Stepping through a door and walking the land, our subject finds himself for the first time in his life making new footprints rather than reinforcing those of old. Seeds sprout from blood and the mind is in turmoil, for it has not yet accomplished that which will give the only peace of mind for a seeker.

He walks the great ocean and does not sleep..

As written by the 16th-century scholar Tän Anghér in his last work: “Lord Krïm, Wanderer, Seeker”.