The following describes one of the gods in whose service I find myself. It is not a history; it is a myth. Receive it with melancholy sweetness.
Before all things there was nothing; and in the dark empty there was one emptiness which reigned over the others. It was Absence and Silence; it was Lightless and Lawless; it had no Form and no Thought, but still it was, and still is, in those vast places that lie between the stars. You and I will never know it, save from afar, unless we should launch ourselves wholesale into the outer place beyond our sphere and let his breath replace our own with frosty, numbing void.
They say it was lonely, and this is not true- it never bothered to feel anything. They say that it resisted when the Changes came, bringing galaxies like spinning tops, and the slow march of progress, and infinite noise… but that’s not true either. It simply retreated. Backed away. Change is hot and fast and sometime or another it ends. Absence, heavy and cold and untouchable, will outlast every scheme. It is generous with its gifts. Change is pain, after all, and who has not yearned for a moment of peace and quiet? For an enveloping darkness, a crushing comfort, an escape from the need to be?
Light a candle. Brew a strong cup of tea. Draw the curtains, and let no noise or color in. Pray for rest, and dissolve into the emptiness in your mind. It is there, waiting to answer, to hold you until it is time to return to the big, crashing, hideous world out there.
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The Bright-Eyed Sinner's Sanctum 
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