With no fixed domain to bear, his closest ally was a singlar place in the universe nestled between a massive, grey-white wing and an engorged breastplate with musculature that was of iron, yet with an inviting comfort of down, and an inner, radiating warmth.
The blood of God coursed in that breast, the energy of the universe, the power of all things combined (and then some).
It was his only refuge, nestled there like a babe. It was his only place of comfort.
He feared the great being. He knew (for he had a taste still left in his mouth, even after millenia), he knew of that wrath, that God-forsaken wrath.
It was terrible. God, awe-filled. God, awful.
It was the eye of a raptor, the eye of a shark (yet the shark might show fear - but not the raptor). There was no passion in the wrathful eye; while he knew that love was there, it was love subdued; love, restrained. Necessary, oblique and disdained.
He knew that eye, that facet. He feared it, but more, he feared that in himself that could illicit such an eye as that. He feared his sins, his weakness, his proclivity to illicit such a seeming, heartless stare.
And so, he soared.
rest me now,
for I know the dangers
of Thy embrace.
It is not of You, Father, that I fear,
but of myself in that warm place.
For what I might do,
Heavenly soul, for what I might do.
To earn that mantle,
to become that one,
for which Saviour pleads,
'forgive him, for he know not'.
This is my tremble, this my fear.
I must learn to rest this quake,
to quash this tremble, Oh Adonai,
and become AS you, the rock,
and soar in Thy way with confidence
that I will not falter, like remnant on The Wind.
Give me necessary strenth,
make me so wise,
that I might soar with You,
call you friend, and tremble not!"
It was his constant prayer, as he wandered the Universe of God's will, of God's plan, and of God's design.
It was his way to rush through the cold spaces of icey breath's bluster there within God's domain (for even on cold wind, He doth move). To wander the universe at once seeking that nestled wing and finding it there, in all the recesses of a black and distant space.
Even in that chasmic nothingness, this believer sees that wing, feels that warmth and understands that presence. For even in that nothingness, His wing and His wind that lifts it, prevail.
He is there for those, like Entolluch, who will open the breast-buried eye, rend the fabric of darkness, utter the soul-filling prayer