The Big Things

Big things are coming.They stride across the flat grey and step boldly into color. Their limbs twitch in entrancing rhythm as they sing their chosen song. The Big Things can be silent if they will it, but they are not concerned with such subtleties. You may hear a rumbling from deep underground. You may hear a howl from a place you'll never reach. You may hear the undulations of unfathomable mechanisms. You will hear what they wish you to hear. You will hear more of it as they near.Behold me, behold we. The earth buckles at our approach. So tall, so wide, so alive. 
Big things are coming.
Their footsteps are proud, not furtive. Their calls assertive, not meek. Joyous is their aura and bold is their form. They do not care that they are seen; that the world lays its sight upon their rank blackness. The big things laugh at the hateful, scoff at the critic. What are such things to titans? There is no judging eye not rendered feeble before them. The world is not ready for the distant leviathan, but the world is not in charge. 
Canvassing fields. Scaling cliffs. Moving through beyond, before, and between. Watch us in our travels; see your troubles laid bare. See too, how ineffective your ignorance. We are not your phantasms. We refuse to be your ghost stories. We walk dark as pitch and twice as stark. 
Big things are coming.
Massive things. Enormous things. Things that make one's neck hurt to stare at. Things that make one's face a mask of terror. Things who's trills fill the brain, drawing it in like a whirlpool. How can such a monster stands so assuredly? How can a mockery live larger than life? The horrible kings make their trek clad in dread attire. They wear their faction to blinding effect; you will know them by every part they force you to accept.
You will be overcome. Perhaps the sounds that tug at the body. Perhaps the form which clings to the face. Perhaps the touch of the tight dark against your warmth. The sickness inside you will swell, demanding to make itself known. You can no more ignore yourself than us.
Big things are coming.
Always coming. Always nearing. They know they will stand immense before their targets. They know others will fall away beneath. They are perfect in wretchedness and suffer no mediocrity. There is an illness they carry; an ego virus that flows through their presence. The mind loops back and turns on itself. The body aches and yearns. The whole becomes aware of its broken state. This is their curse. This is their gift. 
Dead cells and failing heat. Lobes filled with chemicals and misaligned bones. "Blasphemous" it all speaks, but we will not hear of it. We know that is not our way. You will become aware of your fatigue. You will know the pains you kept locked away. Your putrid self lies unmasked and messy just as we lie in the distance. You cannot be helped by your brethren; you see them for the spoiled matter they are. So you walk. You walk to the different. You walk to the other. You walk to promise. And where does this lead you?
Big things are coming.
You'll meet us halfway.
Category:THEM