It is not a place of cold like you would expect. Nor is it warm. It is anything and it is everything, and temperature is a subconscious desire here. It is a desire that would imply the sensation of being on solid ground. It would imply that you are on earth, in a tangible space, like one that would make you feel stable and like reality was a place you could walk to and feel against your cheek.
But the aroma of ocean, of the decay of sealife and the rich and lofty gasps of air that do not exist in a way that they should all taste faintly like sea salt. And it is here in this sanctuary, untouched by the common folk less by particular stretches of circumstance, willed by the thing that walks here, that this place is a divine place. It is a space and a time that exists neither here nor there. It is a beyond beyond the beyond. But above all else, it is a throne.
And within this throne the thing that walks here has no need of anything. It has wants and it has desires and feelings, but it has no need for any thing within your hands or held close to your chest.
It needs naught and for naught it will ask. But the face of a man, still yet young yet eons older than the gravity of its presence can allow you to comprehend, will ask of you things.
It varies from person to person. But the words that come from thin lips too easy to watch, too human to be so, may be too heavy on the mind. It can be teasing and encouraging or cruel and expressive of something deep within its own chest that ought not be there for a God.
But for me, it is the words of a friend. Words that come in a way that push the boundaries of my expectations and inevitably turn me from the company of others. We share a distaste like we share a love of a particular wine.
It is sipped and savoured by the both of us as we share this bottle of words in good company. We understand one another in a way that is not needed to be understood by others. There is a feeling there, a sensation that we both, together, within the core of our gut and our lungs, one of which is a superficial set of its own inhaling and exhaling, sometimes with laughter and sometimes with sighs, can feel like feathers or many many legs dancing along the insides of our entities.
And we know together it is a shared sentiment. Together in this place, in this void, we share this like a weekly gathering for coffee - as friends and colleagues to discuss and debate, to challenge one another's processes.
Words of philosophy and personal etiquette and understanding come across and freely like a talk of the weather and incoming storms on the ocean.
If it's eyes are black like the space between the stars, then the smile it flashes between a breathy laugh of amusement at a gentle joke I smooth out between casual sips of enjoyment is the shimmering of starlight.
