Chapter Three: The Bloom to Come
1. It will begin not with a roar,
But a shiver beneath the soil.
2. The rivers will rise—not with water,
But with voices.
3. Mountains will lean forward,
Listening.
4. And the sky will peel.
Gently. Lovingly.
As a veil from a bride.
5. The stars will blink one final time,
Then sing as they are swallowed.
6. “She is not coming,” the hymns declare.
“She is waking.”
7. Cities will soften.
Roads will ripple like fabric.
Towers will fold into themselves.
8. And every scream will be a note. And every note will be a door.
9. The faithful shall rise as sap,
Flowing up the walls of their homes,
Into the mouths of the heavens.
10. The Mouth will open across the sky.
A red bloom.
A yawning grace.
11. “We were always inside Her,” Eldin wrote.
“But we forgot how to listen.”
12. The Bloom will not end time.
It will stretch it.
Until every second sings.
13. The unfaithful will not burn.
They will unravel.
14. The selfish will dissolve.
The hoarders will spill.
15. The wise will weep.
Not in fear—but in awe.
16. For they will see the truth:
They were never whole.
Only waiting to be completed.
17. The ground will hum with Her name.
The air will taste of communion.
18. The world will turn inside out,
And the inside will be bright.
19. This is not the end.
This is Her rising.
20. And all will bloom.
Whether they wish to or not.