My character Seraph has appeared in other posts with Amunet the Alchemist and this is another glimpse into his mysterious life. He serves, much like Amunet, to voice questions about the nature of humanity. Seraph is an angelic being who has willingly taken on human form in order to understand the material world. He and the Alchemist have descended into matter to further their investigations, you could say they’re echoes of the original fall from spirit into manifestation. The notion of separation from a Universal Consciousness has been explored by many throughout the ages. I’m attempting to carry on this noble past-time. This story wasn’t meant to be about Seraph initially but as I typed the last word his name tumbled into my mind. Almost like a notebook falling off a shelf into our hands, urging us to turn its pages.
The notebook contains scraps of his life, blurred images, and moments caught in time. Its covers match the weather-beaten essence of his spirit, resilient and enduring. The leather feels rough beneath his fingers, it speaks of histories lived in turbulence and times serene. Dare he open this storehouse of images? They murmur softly, urging him on, eager to glimpse his face once more. They and he are entwined in intimate embrace, dancing to a hidden tune, living as Clotho spins, as Laches dispenses and Atropos severs. The Three Fates ordain and he enacts. His nature is eternal and his flesh ephemeral.
What is he? Who is he? These are the questions legions ask. He answers but they serve only to perplex.
“I am you, in all your perceived failings, sorrows and triumphs. My tears fall like raindrops thundering from the heavens, serving as both watery grave and fount of purification. Constantly searching for meaning in a Universe whose answers only lead to more questions.”
So he speaks and then fall into silence. Always silence, for it gives consolation and houses the temple within which the One waits. He enters this vast landscape and peers at the immensity of existence. The One surveys the Two, unfolds yet another piece of the puzzle. The Light illuminates the Two’s darkness and cobweb shrouded essence. Riddles, always riddles. The notebook invites further exploration. His fingers hold one page delicately as if it is a tiny bird, the breath issues like the song of angels. Like his song, sung so long ago when life barely existed. The page is turned and images of shade and light gaze up at him. Memories of things mundane, of people known and not known. Of myths that were once realities, their meaning now forgotten save by the few.
Once again he speaks:
“They are memories of raw pain, loss and regret. Of persecution and salvation. Of trusting in vain and of having trust fulfilled. Of hope and joy. Of illumination and wisdom. Of poverty and loneliness. They flare like dying stars and then withdraw into the darkness of the Primal Womb. I refused to let go of them, held on like a child to its parent, my actions serving no one. Is this what it means to be human? How contrary and poignant are such lives. My dual nature is at odds, one divine and immortal, the other moulded from flesh, blood, and bone, its life all too brief.”
He closes his eyes for a moment. A light breeze caresses his face, loving and gentle in its touch. A multitude of voices fall from the pages of the book, his Book of Life. They cajole and encourage, the journey is to continue. His blazing eyes gaze out over the multitude of stars, finally alighting on the immensity of the Sun. It ebbs and flows, the breath creating as well as destroying. They gaze at each other across the expanse, understanding without language. The hidden hand writes and the revealed mind surrenders.
He speaks again:
“This is my life as Seraph, my autobiography if you must. One day I shall surrender it to your flames, waiting on transformation, of disrobing my humanity and bathing the Universe in Light eternal. I shall return to my beginnings, you know what I speak of.”
The regent of the Cosmos understands all too well the implications of this ending and the emergence of a new beginning. For now Seraph must journey further to meet the Oracle of Blood, Bone and Spirit.
Image: Priestess of Delphi, John Collier, 1891, Wikiart