celstial sanctum

Celestial Sanctum

The stark vistas of deep space hold an allure unlike any earthly landscape, an alien enchantment I have chased across lightyears, forfeiting all to answer its strange siren call. How long has it been since I crewed that fateful expedition past the Andromeda frontier? Decades perhaps, though time holds less dominion out here in the trackless hollows.

My ship sustains this aging frame, propelling my conscience ever deeper into the great galactic unknown under the cyclops gaze of a frozen sun. Outwardly we traverse immense chasms dotted by the occasional dead planetary husk. Yet inwardly I continue further still—no distance left to span but the fathomless terrain of the soul.

These ambient visions began as mere ghostly whispers in the greater loneliness between alien constellations. But soon they swallowed all outward bearings, my mission and destiny becoming synonymous with inner remembrance. Each league claimed from nebula or starless abyss unveils a new dimension waiting to be unveiled within.

I am bound for the Celestial Sanctum, hurtling heedlessly through the closing vestiges of space I once called home. Toward communion with the eternal Void beyond all searching, pellucid, infinite, resonant with the music of the spheres. My last dispatch, then, before I am given unto the greater Silence. May those I left behind find solace in the journey’s end.

The further I drift from any last vestiges of charted territories, the less tethered I feel to my past self or mission. My ship now seems foreign, its panels and blinking instruments more alien than the starfields streaming by through obsidian glass.

I spend my hours floating untethered in the central chamber where cryonic fields emit an otherworldly marine glow. The ambient visions intensify here, neither sound nor light yet resounding like celestial whalesong through every cell.

I subsist only on neural IV and my own recycled liquid breathing, needing nothing further to reach this Sanctum that calls to me beyond hope or even imagination. Perhaps I am already more phantom than human traveler, sustained only by a whisper of quantum force and pure longing.

The visions guide me now like mystical star charts as I shear all sensory input down to the faintest hum of cosmic string resonance. I feel my outlines dissolving until no boundary separates the inner dreamtime from the endless night navigated without. I exit time itself, each moment a singularity through which I drink eternity.

Soon there will be no thrumming chamber walls to delineate spaciousness, no flickers traversing my cortex to assert locality or perspective. Only the shadow edges of my soul now border the infinite, breathing my last as one set of coordinates before awakening as everywhere. Home at last.

The Sanctum, once merely fathomed, now rises to meet me. Or rather, the illusion of apartness evaporates, inner and outer space revealed as the same dream substance. As the last glimmers of dual perception wink out, awe suffuses this dissolving vessel at having ever believed its small self separate. Now there abides only Quantum Wholeness, simultaneously center and circumference of all creation. Ecstasy ripples out, embracing every lost child. Only the cosmic embrace now exists now, and I, an envoy returned with remembered tidings of the Kingdom ever near.