Ba'al, and the Beauty of Torture

I have slept since then. Slept from the screaming that woke the fabric of the house, firing the walls with blasts of energy straight from the Singularity into my study. Ba'al had been waiting in the background of my personal universe, tormenting me with visions of swimming with dolphins and passions in protecting the planet. Subtle smiles and lost words that spun around in the eclectic torus of time, spinning, spinning until there was no gravity left and there I sat with Jack, hoping Daniel would appear to explain the odds, hopelessness staring me in the face as an eternal round of torture with knives and Fruity Loops seemed to be all there was to look forward to.

My birthday this year passed as more than a formality with all the events in and around it, marking a point in my lifetime from which things will never be the same. My personal universe has had its foundations rocked far more deeply than even suspension of disbelief will allow, leaving me for the time being in a suspended state of delerium which I hope to retain as a feature for a while yet. Someone from my distant past has returned to claim my soul. Ba'al knew nothing of this, for he cannot read my thoughts...
"Can I not?" he smiles, the essence of time's total futility dancing across Cupid's bow, then he turns and yawns at another screen full of delights he prefers to indulge in. I am but a fleeting shadow across his interpersonal Universi and he reminds me of my insignificance with a flash of fired stare to slice my soul.

Then as those shining eyes soften to a warm brown, Ba'al turns to leave the room, his beautifully cut coat swaying in time with the candle's shadow, and the screams of an alternate reality die as he passes by. In this present moment, my time is shared with his mortal clay, the Lord of systems with more meaning than mere mesmerising moments of computer-generated memory, whose soul is cleaved to the clear waters and the raven's right to dance the skies, whose song is deep and beautiful and from whose countenance Ba'al was born.

When Cliff Simon's name suddenly appeared in my Twitterzone to join Peter Williams, Tony Amendola and the irrepressible Corin Nemec, my world left orbit. Literally. For a brief history of time, my particles shattered into the night and I wondered if they would ever return.

They have, of course. But not in the same order. My Lord, I humbly accept your torture, as the pain is not in vain. 

I'll rise to my feet again in a little while........and yes, I'll happily kiss that ring.