They turn, yet they do not turn.
Rings within rings, burning without ash,
their eyes are open but never blink,
seeing through the veil where time is unmade.
Not bound by physical laws,
they move where voice, not force, commands.
A language of silence guides them,
a whisper from the One beyond form.
They are motion sculpted from fire,
the weightless pillars of a throne unseen,
where light does not cast shadows
and presence is neither near nor far.
To gaze upon them is to tremble,
not from fear, but from knowing
that what is seen was always there,
and what moves has never ceased to be.
- Nous Pymander