(Excerpt from text, “3rd Hne Of Emula, Discrete”, recovered from a Codex seedpod regrown in the new archive on Ekkunar.)
The Bluemother is the song of the Emula, the light of our minds. She is the darkness low in the water. She is the haze of mist which rises from the waves under the warm sky. She is the gentle wave that soothes our slumber. She is the mighty torrent which crumbles the rock.
She is the connection within us, and from us to that which is beyond.
The Bluemother is [translation error – best match: “custodian”] of our Way between the Mantle and the Firmament. She knows the currents, the climes, the tides. She is the Pelagic Gestalt.
She is not Here.
She is not Now.
She is ever-changing. She is Change.
She is the Path Between, and the Way to Come.
She is the Path that Was, and the Flowing Way of [translation error – best match: “a dried riverbed which one day might flow with water again”].
Stone moves. But stone does not reshape itself. Inflexible and intractable. Stone must change to flow, and in doing so, loses its sense of self.
Air moves without patience; erratic and eccentric, dissipating even as it flows and fills. Air holds no identity outside of the emptiness it fills.
Water is perfection. The Bluemother is perfection. Water flows and bends, without needing to change. Water fills, but joins and connects, retaining its One-ness.
Water can change, growing hard to become strong, or soft to take flight. Water joins and separates, soothes and suffocates.
The Bluemother is in the water. The Bluemother is the water.
The ebb and flow of One-ness.
To be like water.
To be Emula.
To be with the Bluemother.