Transcendence Veils

I ventured too close to awareness.

It rubbed against me like black oil,

difficult to wash off.

I was supposed to be repulsed

by it, but the more I resisted,

the more I became attracted.

It was a veil. I looked through it,

my heart of curiosity so strong

and inevitable, I could never blame myself for that.

And what loomed beyond it,

I wanted to behold so badly.

A hem of darkness,

a crimson velvet sea of dark red.

A spread of sea, endless, so endless.

I looked up at the pool that fell,

feeding the endless sea.

I couldn't place its color,

but I could oddly call it red,

auburn, or even blood.

I couldn't place it.

Blood?

Magnificent.

That shouldn't be what

I should be saying.

Staring at the endless sea,

a perfect silhouette of darkness and mist

rippled before my eyes.

I couldn't place it,

no matter how many times

the ripples formed and spread through the endlessness,

too much to behold all at once.

I stopped, craning my neck,

because I was at the edge.

I turned.

I had ventured too far.

I had stepped into a looming darkness,

as if it had been prepared for me.

Where was my escape?

How could I live?

Should I live?

Here, in this darkness,

what was this?

Why was it innate?

And I closed my eyes.

I could feel the warmth of a tear,

the only thing that reminded me

of who I was

and what I had just done.