CONCEPTUAL PREVIEW

thematic samples

I - The weight of luminescence

II - Ephemeral echoes of the unheld

Duality. Shadow. Pain. Fortitude. Fragility.

II - Ephemeral echoes of the unheld

Grief. Transmutation. Alchemy. Reverence. Strength.

III - Mortal remains

IV - Cartography of borrowed walls

Fragments. Memory. Experiencing. Integration. Recontextualisation.

IV - Cartography of borrowed walls

Mapping. Chronology. Navigation. Coherence. Closure.

The dawn of epochalypse

A still, small voice emerges at dusk

In a moment of stillness,

I feel the call to go inward.

Peering into the small window

that has emerged in me.

I rest my head,

gazing out at the world

as it becomes dark around me.

Drawn toward the stillness,

my armour is laid down to rest,

as the light of the sun drifts from view.

The world around me is dark;

a still small voice emerges from within.

Suddenly I am left alone,

with nothing but the present awareness

of a deep pain inside me

asking to be known.

It has called me for days.

Finally, I hear.

It speaks to me

in the language I know best.

The felt sense of resonant words;

words I am unable to yet speak.

I see flashes,

storms,

memories,

darkness.

I allow its voice

to echo through me.

And as the world around me grows darker,

I find myself becoming lost

in the sea of this feeling.

It could be easy enough to drown in,

to swim out too far,

to be swept away by the tide.

Only, I know the depths

of the waters I now swim;

I fear them.

I am small,

scared.

The swell is too strong.

So, I merely dip my toes in

to the void within

that is calling to be known.

I lack the stamina to tread water

in this depth.

I am terrified what exists below the surface.

What I cannot see.

But I know it is there;

the ocean has always terrified me.

When you are the only one

on the life raft keeping it afloat;

there is hardly enough time to take in the view.

Let alone give thought to what lives

below the surface in the deep.

I fear with any other at the helm

I may find respite or peace;

that frees me to be present with

the vastness of the water below me.

To exhale is to relax;

to relax is to lose my strength of grip,

to lose vigilance.

To be held means being still;

stillness is the window where I see and hear

the roaring tide that lives inside of me.

If I let go, I fear I may fall

into the pitch-black waters.

I do not wish to greet

the creatures that live there.

I have to keep the raft afloat.

It is all I've known.

The world around me is dark.

Silent, all but a distant hum.

The water is still.

I see the light of the moon

and it reminds me where there is darkness

there can be light.

The rain reminds me I do not fear water;

I admire its powerful lifeforce,

the beauty and renewal it brings.

4 August 2026

Echoes of epochalypse in ethereal form

It's through her eyes, I see

Gazing up at the stars did something
profoundly eye-opening to me.

As I looked up calmly,
I had this felt sense -

a memory
of being younger,
looking to the sky.

As I clocked the same
constellations I grew up seeing,
I became flooded
with a wave of emotion
arising from my body.

I remembered what it felt like
to be her,
looking up at the world above.

I thought about the ways
we are taught to spot the
constellations when we are little.

How it is a formative tradition,
one that existed long before us,
for as long as humans
have co-existed with the sky.

I thought about what it meant
to be a child in this world.

How the memory in this moment
connected me to a part of my life
I haven't been able to access
or know for a very long time.

As I gazed up at the stars,
tears streamed down my face.

I focused on allowing the feeling
to surface.

Letting it arise
without judgement.

When I tried to name it,
there was wonder.

Gravity.

But the feeling in my body
was grief.

A deep sense of pain.

It felt like gasping for air.

It wasn't until I returned inside,
to be present with the warmth
of my home,
that I understood.

Sitting on the ground alone in tears,
looking at the life I have built around me
with an overwhelming sense of gratitude.

I have spent many nights

looking at the sky.

Feeling alone.

Without a sense of safety
or belonging.

Those stars transported me right back
to a place I once stood.

Being there reminded me
what it was like.

To be her again.

It is a surreal experience
to be staring at the same sky.

Cognisant of every version before me
who has done the same.

Integrating the fact we are

one in the same.

Seeing out of the same eyes
at the same things she saw.

Only, seeing now
is an entirely different experience.

I think there is grief
that comes from knowing
there were versions before now
who looked to the sky
without knowing
it can - and does - get better.

A grief enmeshed with gratitude.

To be one letter apart
and so intricately woven;

grief & relief.

Two sides of the same coin.

A sea swells deep within; seeking passage through stillness. Allow the current to move through you. This is the echo of epochalypse.