Paradise
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"Holiness works in lines that were natural once; it is an effort to recover the ecstasy that was before the Fall. But sin is an effort to gain the ecstasy and the knowledge that pertain alone to angels, and in making this effort, man becomes a demon [...]"
Arthur Machen – The White People
Knives never dreams about the past. It has been an effort – though in the end not a real challenge – to seal off the misguided, confused time when he had been a child. There is only so much as one dream now, to him more like a vision, a prophecy:
A wide, quiet place, cleansed and made save from every kind of human influence.
All the plants are there together, forming one living whole, existing beyond time and death.
There is still so much to be done to achieve this, but he knows this future will come, it is inevitable.
Humankind - - - humankind in all its mindless, cruel, arrogant fragility will in the end fall as ash back down to the ground beneath, mingle with the dust and disappear. Like it has always been supposed to be.
While his brother... well, he will in the end be of use to his plan in some way for sure. It is inevitable.
Still, from time to time, his dream – his vision – confuses him. Not permanently so and only in the space of the mere fraction of a second. Sometimes, when he resurfaces from it – often while standing on the bridge of his ship, staring down, down – there is a brief sensation of sadness woven between the sense of stillness and unity of his paradise. Just for the time it takes to draw a reassuring breath, he'd feel lightheaded, disoriented. But then, when his eyes find the stars on either side and the dirty, sullied ground beneath, he remembers. And there is only determined silence and purity in his mind again.
