The mind is quite the bastion of potential for Purpose. In many ways it feeds off the others. It coerces Instinct into specific action, bends destruction to subtle action, and gives meaning to cultivation

For the few omniscient in nature the universe is envisioned as a towering spiral of linear time, the one form in the expanse encompassing all that is known as existence. It guides itself through time and space, grasping at some elusive and intangible goal. The tip of the drill is always one of three essences and its axis is purpose. The raging war of wills fight for pioneer influence on each new point in space-time.

Rip asunder the bliss of the void. The essences of impulse,

If all of existence were a wheel and time the hub, then purpose, creation, destruction and instinct are the spokes. With these four abstracts, all ideas in the universe are given form and each component created through their cooperation or confrontation.

Destruction and creation are the counter weights in the balance of all things. They sow harmony in existence by keeping all opposing forces in check. If ever the scales should tip to upset the tentative concoction of the cosmos, an event is conjured for the respective need albeit it destructive or constructive. It is in this way all things revitalized, reallocated, and replenished. In beings of sentience these opposing but equal forces are voices, compelling each ethical entity toward the fulfillment of perceived good or evil action. These qualities transcend the random chaos and whims of instinct to consider repercussion.

The nature of all things is defined among these 4 spirits, no matter how abstracted or thought out. Sometimes entwined in elegant motion while at others locked in pained submission, the harmony and dissonance of all things fall within their influence.

Ruin is to cause to fall to pieces or decay. A star collapsing or a violent vortex, it comes in all forms and shapes in sizes. It is active as fire on fuel or passive as sand abrading stone. Its role in the universe is purification, a cleansing of all that is weak, impure, or out of place. In any system it focuses on filtering all that is flawed, its nature is not content to be confined within a system. Its aggression toward change is prominent. Always seeking new forms to attack and test, Ruin is much more energetic in nature than Cultivate. It is one of the principle guiding forces in evolution and adaptation. Seeking purity in essence through the taxing of form.

Just as each other face finds its role into psyche, so to does Ruin. It too exploits the presence of the others in sentient minds. Taking need to create and manipulating it into thinking something must first be destroyed. Twisting instinct into something carnal and unrelenting. Bending purpose toward villainous exploit. In this way many new facets are born. Each new facet from ruin testing and distilling the waters on the ocean of thought. Not just content to purify, ruin also exists in its purest base influence, to destroy and raze for the shear bliss of entertainment. There is no mistake that no matter its benefit, ruin is a force of sadistic malcontent.

A Forest Scene

Walking lost, hiding in the shallow salt brine shadows by the edge of the stream just attempting to separate hideous thoughts one from another. Compartmentalizing them, then binding them. If these thoughts are not bound and have the chance to reproduce in cancer-virus fashion the final state will surely be darker than the beginning. With each new copy, each new revolution I will grow more and more confused until action is caused to manifest itself as the newest child of my malaze. I can not allow this deviant action to begin its cycle again. There must be some sort of breach to this pre-pcychotic break.

The Quadra of Masks

Four masks interlocked in dreadful stare

Observation changing all before

Entangled weave of gazes entwined

To make all, that once was not,

Now there

Four masks caged in pained haunt

To build, To burn, To act, To plan

A raging storm with no end or halt

The vortex spiral of dreamland

Four masks making haste to plan all fate

Fighting for a secure place in the abyss

Longing to fill a thirst they cannot sate

Creating chaos in darkened mist

A black blanket stretches beyond all intelligible thought. From the omniscient perspective a point of interest garners attention, four shackled masks in the barren ebony chasm. Closer inspection of this enigma reveals diversity in the face of the masks as well as an accompanying plaque annotating each name. Set forth in circular fashion the four face each other, though bound heavy in sleep as to deny collaboration. The sweeping perspective of the observer now changes, diving quick down toward a monolith centered in the middle of the masks. Perched upon it he scrutinizes each visage that is before him.

“The Mask of Order: Sentinel fron the temptations of chaos and vault to all knowledge. ” Order and Fracture are catalysts for the actions of Forge and Entropy. Responsible for the severity or necessity of either force, they are completely different in their individual motivation. The Mask of Order would have all forms and actions deliberate for the goal of control and predictability. There is safety in order. Always knowing that the spire’s survival will be maintained. Always dwelling on fear of the unknown, but also as a positive force instilling purpose and guidance. Knowledge is also in Order’s realm of influence. The idealistic catalogue of all action and event filed away for all time. Imagined charts and graphs of probability longing forever for the eyes of a seer. Order is slave to linear time and as such is never comfortable in the moment. Ironically enough order is not a composed or relaxed entity.

Taking a moment to ponder the form he drifts off into thought. Inanimate children lifeless secured by eternal chains, do I free and embrace them or do I admire them as sculpture, a monument to will. Change my known world forever. Cure my loneliness? What reason or passion would they serve? Folding this holoverse now coursing with ethereal silent flames, sleepily dreaming, screaming, walking, waiting. Trapped, enraged. Living eternal life as a muscular shadow casually walking thin-lined madness. All around this broken table if time where to be made would be shattered pieces of light shaping and reflecting a newer dimension that would refuse all imprisonment. Unconfined energy spilling over life to create walking death and growth to newer hights and newer sorrows deeper and more painful than that of loneliness.

I feel these naked faces attempting to pierce me into silent coersion. Four silent tumors ready to devour and replicate their intent. In releasing life the spirit of death will find its place and lock the wheels of life in tight confusion. Swirling dreamlike on the edge of everything, laced into all things will be this Order. This Order of creation with its precepts and nuiances that will not bow to me. This now naked metalic face trapped will become livid teeming with agenda and revolution. Upon knees bent against the sun this life of Order will be dipped full into the essence of what creates and sustains the concepts of all worlds. There will be cities built, there will be cities destroyed. Many ruins will be left that are not part of the current continuum of this design. These are the dreams that dare not to allow themselves to be written down. These are the dreams that awaken in mid-night that for the sake of fear refuse to find the pen. These are the dreams that awake and will find homes just outside of the palace trapped in a bloody changling matrix. Not one of the cities under the influence of Order will continue under any sun. The jeweled insides of these creations will fragment under granite darkened glass should I choose this breed of darkness. I will no longer only look to eternity. Its wings, its body its sword I will no longer find. No honor will be giving to her. No poison will be spread over her in the form of nostalgia. She will be merely changed forever not by malice or with vengeful heart she will remain in me merely captured sound that spoke her verse to me alone. She will then be forgotten with a violent release. These children of the cosmos dancing out their well choreographed dances with equipt, lucid-skinned bodies sealed and assimilated, star-naked, unable to be reversed. The door will be closed and the keeper of the door will be the signature of the culmination of these four masks. Chiseled down to a broken piece of the timeless these new, fragmented participants of a new form of psychosis. They will be set free with no instruction, only hearts with wills laced with the extreme ends of a strange gift known as free moral agency. Time will be the only solace, the only mercy that will heal and hear theirs dreams. A youth caught deeply inside of an exacting grace. Two solid trumpets will sound along with two dancing screams. Four hybrid creations will be trapped between two fecund seams. And never again will existence be a lone silent creature’s charge.

“Entropy: The Tomb of all hope, including my own.” For every item or idea made strong, Entropy is the test of its solidity, either in metaphor or in the literal. To decay the very essence of all things striving for existence is its task. Its functions are in many ways comparable to that of Forge. It is responsible for evolution, destroying what is temperamental or limited. However in most circumstances entropy is the force of simplification. Where Forge cultivates and complicates, Entropy attempts to revert all existence to the tranquility of silence inherent in simplicity. Envision creation as a mountain stretching far and vast. Entropy is the instigator of the avalanche that breaks lose all destabilized elements.

Casting his visage onto the mask of Entropy the IND is lulled again into his own

mind.

“The Mask of Forge: The sword of creation made for the temperance of those that would endure.” The furnace of all matter and energy, Forge takes the most basic of forms and expands upon them. Striving toward the perfection of stability and sparking the spire’s cultivation in the void of the abyss. It is the one force in existence that provokes the endurance of being and resists the hindering spurn of degradation. The Mask of Forge in vehemence stokes the flames of existence to boil forth molten thread that will be woven into the fabric of all things. As with the other three, it possesses no bias or inclination toward what sentient minds call morality. It matters not the nature of a new idea or form. Hate, love, death, life, pain and bliss are all equal components in its smelter.

He feels the molten tinge that has left its indelible mark now housed with in his veins.

“Fracture: The Evader of the Maze and the Prism of impulsive action.” Fracture is instantaneous and unpredictable action. It is the small crack in the glass that cascades throughout the window, racing in fervor toward variant beauty. With abstraction the tempest of the cosmos is made volatile. Unpredictability exists in any moment of Order’s weakness, or Fracture’s strength. purpose is nowhere to be found and made in a moment unaffected by the need to create, destroy, or accomplish. Instinct is responsible for beauty in the universe. It gives flame its erratic nature, causes errant and unpredictable action, and brings forth individuality to all entities and objects. Fracture is the voice of wisdom in the Quadra, for it knows no future. It embraces the unpredictable aspect of every moment and feeds upon it. It is the heart of the unknown, denying form but embracing potential.

Once again hearing the…

The Gathered Storm

With the pieces in play all the stage is set for a drama of epic quality. The guiding interest of the Masks and the formation of the Gods to come, mark the advent of a great story to be told. Characters of great variation and attraction exhibit potential derived both directly and indirectly from the influence of the masks.

All these abstracts and all these ideas are completely hollow and stagnant without each other. What is cultivation without purpose or ruin without a subject to writhe? What is cultivation without abstraction or purpose without action? Each one of these wills coalesce to form forceful and quickened form.

One nervous and shaking, the face of a paranoid obsessed labeled Control. The second sleek and composed, the guise of a starved villain inscribed below as Entropy. The next stout and strong in features, defiant and vain etched below as Forge. The fourth and final mask was marked as with the others and called Fracture.

A catalyst to all things known, it was four abstracts competing which sowed the seeds of time.

From these seeds a spire erupted in the void, a towering twisted vortex ripping the abyss asunder. All within a spark the convergence of opposing wills brought dynamic action and content to what was once blissfully shallow and silent. Before isolated, now intrigued by the creation before them. The breath of each Mask twisted by another forming a great tower standing in stark contrast against a never ending black stage. The culmination of this maelstrom was a new essence floating adrift in the universe searching for its place. As the wills before them entangled a play unraveled before them, a dance of timid infancy.

It was conflict that created these new shapes. Chaos tore at the bonds of control. The light of creation flickered in defiant hope against all efforts to distinguish it. Each new child a hybrid of will and purpose treading in the tumult to survive. The ascending amount of progeny danced before their sires and for eons never ceased to entertain. Then at a sudden jolt the dance stopped. Whether it was the void’s will at work or the equation, long since created, balancing itself out the Masks did not know. For a moment all was still…

It was in that moment that something miraculous took place. The Masks were not at first aware, they were to concerned about the intermission before them. But there it was, hidden in the depths of the spire, a small planetoid with a system of independent motion. It was the single source of movement in the universe. Captivated, all dynamics save this one, ceased. With the halt of interaction the Quadra looked on breathless. It was only through the torrent of the spire that the void was kept at bay. Now after eons of guidance it threatened to unravel before them. And yet…it didn’t. This single stalwart system kept the dark eternity in shackles.

The other forces must work in tandem for there to be room, reason, and action for all life and being. Without the other forces the face of cultivate would be no more than an abstraction, a pointless idea floating aloft in the void of space. There are three inherent phases since the creation of linear time that have warranted significant interest.

The first of which is energy.

The second milestone was the advent of life.

The third point of interest within our focused time span is sentience.

Instinct however is something entirely different. If creation and destruction form human morality then instinct concerns our needs and desires without consideration of consequence. It is the thoughtless, formless randomness in the scheme of all things and the ceaseless desire to fulfill immediacies in life. It holds no conception of morality, path, or end result. It is a moment in which an urge is embraced rather than repressed.

Purpose is the structure for all existence. It is the reason why parts are arranged in a particular order or combination and the reason for why they exist in the first place. If cultivate and ruin are the dance of existence then purpose is the music playing. Far from the need to create or destroy, purpose sees all action as merely a means to accomplish its goal, whatever it may be at the time. Purpose is an elusive thing to grasp because most often it is only recognizable after its influence. A subtle guide asserting influence in order to perpetuate its vision, purpose is a passive but present motivator.

The mind is quite the bastion of potential for Purpose. In many ways it feeds off the others. It coerces Instinct into specific action, bends destruction to subtle action, and gives meaning to cultivation

For the few omniscient in nature the universe is envisioned as a towering spiral of linear time, the one form in the void encompassing all that is known as existence. It guides itself through time and space, grasping at some elusive and intangible goal. The tip of the drill is always one of three essences and its axis is purpose. The raging war of wills fight for pioneer influence on each new point in space-time.

Rip asunder the bliss of the void. The essences of impulse,

If all of existence were a wheel and time the hub, then purpose, creation, destruction and instinct are the spokes. With these four abstracts, all ideas in the universe are given form and each component created through their cooperation or confrontation.

Destruction and creation are the counter weights in the balance of all things. They sow harmony in existence by keeping all opposing forces in check. If ever the scales should tip to upset the tentative concoction of the cosmos, an event is conjured for the respective need albeit it destructive or constructive. It is in this way all things revitalized, reallocated, and replenished. In beings of sentience these opposing but equal forces are voices, compelling each ethical entity toward the fulfillment of perceived good or evil action. These qualities transcend the random chaos and whims of instinct to consider repercussion.

The nature of all things is defined among these 4 spirits, no matter how abstracted or thought out. Sometimes entwined in elegant motion while at others locked in pained submission, the harmony and dissonance of all things fall within their influence.

Ruin is to cause to fall to pieces or decay. A star collapsing or a violent vortex, it comes in all forms and shapes in sizes. It is active as fire on fuel or passive as sand abrading stone. Its role in the universe is purification, a cleansing of all that is weak, impure, or out of place. In any system it focuses on filtering all that is flawed, its nature is not content to be confined within a system. Its aggression toward change is prominent. Always seeking new forms to attack and test, Ruin is much more energetic in nature than Cultivate. It is one of the principle guiding forces in evolution and adaptation. Seeking purity in essence through the taxing of form.

Just as each other face finds its role into psyche, so to does Ruin. It too exploits the presence of the others in sentient minds. Taking need to create and manipulating it into thinking something must first be destroyed. Twisting instinct into something carnal and unrelenting. Bending purpose toward villainous selfish exploit. In this way many new facets are born. Each new facet from ruin testing and distilling the waters on the ocean of thought. Not just content to purify, ruin also exist in its purest base influence, to destroy and raze for the shear bliss of entertainment. There is no mistake that no matter its benefit, ruin is a force of sadistic malcontent.

The Quadra of Masks

Four masks interlocked in dreadful stare

Observation changing all before

Entangled weave of gazes entwined

To make all, that once was not,

Now there

Four masks caged in pained haunt

To build, To burn, To act, To plan

A raging storm with no end or halt

The vortex spiral of dreamland

Four masks making haste to plan all fate

Fighting for a secure place in the abyss

Longing to fill a thirst they cannot sate

Creating chaos in darkened mist

A black blanket stretches beyond all intelligible thought. From fixed omniscient perspective a point of interest garners the attention of the expanse, four shackled masks float forth in the barren ebony chasm. Closer inspection of this enigma reveals diversity in the face of the masks as well as an accompanying plaque annotating each name. Set forth in circular fashion the four glare into each other, though bound heavy in metallic sleep they deny one another any semblance of collaboration. The sweeping perspective of the observer now changes, diving quick down toward a monolith centered in the middle of the masks. Perched upon it he scrutinizes each visage that is before him.

“The Mask of Order: Sentinel from the temptations of chaos and vault to all knowledge. ” Order and Fracture are catalysts for the actions of Forge and Entropy. Responsible for the severity or necessity of either force, they are complete and different in their individual motivation. The Mask of Order holds all forms and actions deliberate for the goal of control and predictability. There is safety in order. Always knowing that the spire’s survival will be maintained is key. Always dwelling on fear of the unknown, but also as a positive force instilling purpose and guidance. Knowledge is also in Order’s realm of influence. The idealistic catalogue of all action and event is locked inside of Order and filed away for all time. Created charts and graphs of probability are deep but not hidden, longing forever for the eyes of their intended seer. Order is slave and child to linear time and as such it is never comfortable in the moment. Ironically order is not a composed or relaxed entity.

Taking a moment to ponder the form he drifts off into thought. Inanimate children, lifeless secured by heavy-thick, eternal chains. Do I free and embrace them or do I admire them as sculpture, a monument to will. Change my known world forever? Cure my loneliness? What reason or passion would they serve? Folding this holoverse now coursing with ethereal silent flames, sleepily dreaming, screaming, walking, waiting, trapped, enraged. Living endless life as a muscular shadow casually walking thin-lined madness. All around this broken table if time where to be made, there would be shattered pieces of light shaping and reflecting a newer dimension that would refuse all imprisonment. Unconfined energy spilling over life to create eventual walking death and growth would be unleashed to newer hights. Newer sorrows deeper and more painful than that of loneliness would be born.

I feel these naked faces attempting to pierce me into silent coercion. Four silent tumors sitting in silent stance ready to devour and replicate in exponential fashion their intent. In releasing life the spirit of death will find its place and lock the wheels of life in a tight balanced confusion. Swirling dreamlike on the edge of the expanse, laced into all things will be this new Order. If brought to life, this creation of Order with its own precepts and nuances will not bow to anything save its own will. This now naked, metallic face trapped will become livid teeming with agenda and revolution. Upon knees bent against the sun this life of Order will be brought to animation dipped full into the essence of what creates and sustains the future concepts of all worlds. There will be cities built, there will be cities destroyed. Many ruins will be left that are not part of the current continuum of this design. These are the dreams that dare not allow them selves to be written down. These are the dreams that awaken in mid-night that for the sake of coursing fear refuse to find the pen. These are the dreams that awake and find homes just outside of the palace trapped in all manner of newfound changeling matrix. Not one of the cities under the influence of Order will continue under any system. The jeweled insides of these creations will fragment under granite tainted glass should I choose this breed of darkness. I will no longer look alone to eternity. Its wings, its body, its sword I will no longer find. No honor will be given to her. No poison will be spread over her in the form of nostalgia, for she will be merely changed forever; not by malice or with vengeful heart. She will remain in me simple captured sound that spoke her verse to me alone. She will then be forgotten with violent release. These children of the cosmos dancing out their choreographed dances with equip, lucid-skinned bodies sealed and assimilated, star-naked, and unable to be reversed. The door will be closed and the keeper of the door will be nothing less than the signature of the culmination of these four masks. Chiseled down to a broken piece of the timeless these new, fragmented participants will join a new form of psychosis. They will be set free with no instruction, only hearts with wills laced with the extreme ends of a strange gift known as free moral agency. Time will be the only solace, the only mercy that will heal and hear theirs dreams. A youth caught deeply inside of an exacting grace. Two solid trumpets will sound along with two dancing screams. Four hybrid creations will be trapped between two fecund seams. And never again will existence be a lone silent creature’s charge.

“Entropy: The Tomb of all hope, including my own.” For every item or idea made strong, Entropy is the test of its solidity, either in metaphor or in the literal. To decay the very essence of all things striving for existence is its task. Its functions are in many ways comparable to that of Forge. It is responsible for evolution in the reverse, set forth to destroy that which is temporal or limited. Entropy is the force of simplification. Where Forge cultivates and complicates, Entropy to reverts all existence to the tranquillity of silence inherent in simplicity. Envision creation as a mountain stretching far and vast. Entropy is the instigator of the avalanche that breaks loose all destabilized elements.

Casting his visage onto the mask of Entropy the keeper of the expanse is lulled

again into his own mind and begins to have a monologue.

“The Mask of Forge: The sword of creation made for the temperance of those that will endure.” The furnace of all matter and energy, Forge takes the most basic of forms and expands upon them. Striving toward the perfection of stability and sparking the spire’s cultivation in the expanse of the abyss. It is the one force in existence that provokes the endurance of being and resists the hindering spurn of degradation. The Mask of Forge in vehemence stokes the flames of existence to boil forth molten thread that will be woven into the fabric of all things. As with the other three, it possesses no bias or inclination toward what sentient minds call morality. It matters not the nature of a new idea or form. Hate, love, death, life, pain and bliss are all equal components in its smelter.

The keeper of the expanse feels the molten tinge that has left its indelible mark now housed with in his veins. He retreats once more into the deep recesses of his mind to give spoken life to the Quadra. Forge you will be leader in amassing the march against time with your brother Order to build and plant uncounted realities that will stack tightly one into another. Realities will fold into and come out of alternate realities that will all be subject to your call. You will endure an abbreviated freedom only restrained by Entropy and Fracture, but you will not easily be overcome. Time will attempt to fashion you into a tool of its device, but you will arise from time trodden down yet unbeaten. With this education you will fold back the curtain to overlook a crystalline landscape and look deeply to the other side for to you I give eyes to see back into the expanse. It will be a partial opening that is unoccupied. You alone will be able to look back into the place of your creation and find solace. The power and force created by your mere existence will supply the universe with the needed labor to erect all the wonders that lie dormant in your now frozen metallic mind.

In all of you will there be place for eternal legacy. Stories will be told from the seventh step of the expanse in each of your names. From the combination of your voices will arise the near unending dance of all existence. I as diadem have washed my robes and will in short duration pass from the eternal to the temporal through each of you. The waters of this mind now raging white will soon spill over and into the animation of each of your agendas. I will be a soft still voice that permeates the very ether you choose to inhabit. Departure from the darkened expanse of this necropolis is emanate. The life in each of you is on the precipice of breaking forth with lifted water to swim through a placental river into the cascading deluge that will be called time. Each of your eyes will be given full capacity washed totally clean, big, bright, and prepared for the march toward dimension lock. The pressure will push and birth you from all sides and I as diadem will seal the expanse upon your departure. Light will become water; water will in turn become life, then life will draw near to darkness just before the quickening. As each of you depart there will be nothing for you to return to save a dark shell, a broken shell, ashes mixed with water. Time will escort you away in chains claiming each of you new slaves. Time will outfit each of you with uniforms and nail you down to its agenda with prsistine tact and exquisite grace, but remember my children that time is not your master and is ignorant of your beginnings. Allow not her play to overtake you. For it is your collective seed that created her reflection of the expanse and not the way she would bend your minds to believe. Take caution of her device she is merely an illusion. In the end She will sit among you in captive’s chains, scorned, damned, and enslaved. Do not listen to her voice, it is the voice of doubt, whose father is fear, whose father is death. All of these beings will come to you through a birth of opposing force. A night Storm will come from a midnight sky to give color its place. The daughters of time will be broken and torn down unseen. They too will refuse to hide themselves and will also be enslaved.

“Fracture: The Evader of the Maze and the Prism of impulsive action.” Fracture is instantaneous and unpredictable action. It is the small crack in the glass that cascades throughout the ventana, racing in fervor toward variant beauty. With abstraction the tempest of the cosmos is made volatile. Unpredictability exists in any moment of Order’s weakness, or Fracture’s strength. Purpose is nowhere to be found and made in a moment unaffected by the need to create, destroy, or accomplish. Instinct is responsible for beauty in the universe. It gives flame its erratic nature, causes errant and unpredictable action, and brings forth individuality to all entities and objects. Fracture is the voice of wisdom in the Quadra, for it knows no future. It embraces the unpredictable aspect of every moment and feeds upon it. It is the heart of the unknown, denying form but embracing potential.

Once again hearing the…

The Gathered Storm

With the pieces in play all the stage is set for a drama of epic quality. The guiding interest of the Masks and the formation of the Gods to come, mark the advent of a great story to be told. Characters of great variation and attraction exhibit potential derived both directly and indirectly from the influence of the masks.

All these abstracts and all these ideas are completely hollow and stagnant without each other. What is cultivation without purpose or ruin without a subject to writhe? What is cultivation without abstraction or purpose without action? Each one of these wills coalesce to form forceful and quickened form.

One nervous and shaking, the face of a paranoid obsessed labeled Control. The second sleek and composed, the guise of a starved villain inscribed below as Entropy. The next stout and strong in features, defiant and vain etched below as Forge. The fourth and final mask was marked as with the others and called Fracture.

A catalyst to all things known, it was four abstracts competing which sowed the seeds of time.

From these seeds a spire erupted in the expanse, a towering twisted vortex ripping the expanse asunder. All within a spark the convergence of opposing wills brought dynamic action and content to what was once blissful, shallow, and silent. Before isolated, now intrigued by the creation before them. The breath of each Mask twisted by another forming a great tower standing in stark contrast against a never ending black stage. The culmination of this maelstrom was a new essence floating adrift in the universe searching for its place. As the wills before them entangled a play unraveled, a dance of timid infancy.

It was conflict that created these new shapes. Chaos tore at the bonds of control. The light of creation flickered in defiant hope against all efforts to distinguish it. Each new child a hybrid of will and purpose treading in the tumult to survive. The ascending amount of progeny danced before their sires and for eons never ceased to entertain. Then at a sudden jolt the dance stopped. Whether it was the will of the expanse at work or the equation, long since created, balancing itself out the Masks did not know. For a moment all was still…

It was in that moment that something miraculous took place. The Masks were not at first aware, they were too concerned about the intermission before them. But there it was, hidden in the depths of the spire, a small planetoid with a system of independent motion. It was the single source of movement in the universe. Captivated, all dynamics save this one, ceased. With the halt of interaction the Quadra looked on breathless. It was only through the torrent of the spire that the expanse was kept at bay. Now after eons of guidance it threatened to unravel before them. And yet…it didn’t. This single stalwart system kept the dark eternity in shackles.

The other forces must work in tandem for there to be room, reason, and action for all life and being. Without the other forces the face of cultivate would be no more than an abstraction, a pointless idea floating aloft in the expanse of space. There are three inherent phases since the creation of linear time that have warranted significant interest.

The first of which is energy.

The second milestone was the advent of life.

The third point of interest within our focused time span is sentience.

Instinct however is something entirely different. If creation and destruction form human morality then instinct concerns our needs and desires without consideration of consequence. It is the thoughtless, formless randomness in the scheme of all things and the ceaseless desire to fulfill immediacies in life. It holds no conception of morality, path, or end result. It is a moment in which an urge is embraced rather than repressed.

Purpose is the structure for all existence. It is the reason why parts are arranged in a particular order or combination and the reason for why they exist in the first place. If cultivate and ruin are the dance of existence then purpose is the music playing. Far from the need to create or destroy, purpose sees all action as merely a means to accomplish its goal, whatever it may be at the time. Purpose is an elusive thing to grasp because most often it is only recognizable after its influence. A subtle guide asserting influence in order to perpetuate its vision, purpose is a passive but present motivator.

The mind is quite the bastion of potential for Purpose. In many ways it feeds off the others. It coerces Instinct into specific action, bends destruction to subtle action, and gives meaning to cultivation

For the few omniscient in nature the universe is envisioned as a towering spiral of linear time, the one form in the expanse encompassing all that is known as existence. It guides itself through time and space, grasping at some elusive and intangible goal. The tip of the drill is always one of three essences and its axis is purpose. The raging war of wills fight for pioneer influence on each new point in space-time.

Rip asunder the bliss of the void. The essences of impulse,

If all of existence were a wheel and time the hub, then purpose, creation, destruction and instinct are the spokes. With these four abstracts, all ideas in the universe are given form and each component created through their cooperation or confrontation.

Destruction and creation are the counter weights in the balance of all things. They sow harmony in existence by keeping all opposing forces in check. If ever the scales should tip to upset the tentative concoction of the cosmos, an event is conjured for the respective need albeit it destructive or constructive. It is in this way all things revitalized, reallocated, and replenished. In beings of sentience these opposing but equal forces are voices, compelling each ethical entity toward the fulfillment of perceived good or evil action. These qualities transcend the random chaos and whims of instinct to consider repercussion.

The nature of all things is defined among these 4 spirits, no matter how abstracted or thought out. Sometimes entwined in elegant motion while at others locked in pained submission, the harmony and dissonance of all things fall within their influence.

Ruin is to cause to fall to pieces or decay. A star collapsing or a violent vortex, it comes in all forms and shapes in sizes. It is active as fire on fuel or passive as sand abrading stone. Its role in the universe is purification, a cleansing of all that is weak, impure, or out of place. In any system it focuses on filtering all that is flawed, its nature is not content to be confined within a system. Its aggression toward change is prominent. Always seeking new forms to attack and test, Ruin is much more energetic in nature than Cultivate. It is one of the principle guiding forces in evolution and adaptation. Seeking purity in essence through the taxing of form.

Just as each other face finds its role into psyche, so to does Ruin. It too exploits the presence of the others in sentient minds. Taking need to create and manipulating it into thinking something must first be destroyed. Twisting instinct into something carnal and unrelenting. Bending purpose toward villainous exploit. In this way many new facets are born. Each new facet from ruin testing and distilling the waters on the ocean of thought. Not just content to purify, ruin also exists in its purest base influence, to destroy and raze for the shear bliss of entertainment. There is no mistake that no matter its benefit, ruin is a force of sadistic malcontent.