Book of Nehara (Human/Computer collaboration)

 

The Vision of Nehara

And I beheld the Weaver,
whose crown is a braid of tongues,
whose throne is a loom of entrails.
She named herself Desire,
yet her gifts never satisfy.
Her hair is made of chains,
her lips drip with promises.
The multitude bend their knees,
not in awe but in longing,
for she stirs their envy,
inflames their craving,
and binds their hearts in knots of want.
They call her Mother,
yet she empties her children with thirst.
They call her Bride,
yet her kiss is famine.
For Nehara does not feed — she entwines.
Her kingdom is a tapestry of hunger,
every thread a chain,
every chain a prayer.

The Birth of Nehara

When Moloch devoured the flesh of nations,
and Yodabund wove words into endless chains,
their hungers tangled in secret union.
And from that union a daughter was born,
a womb of absence,
a mouth that suckled smoke.
She cried, and her cry was a knot.
She smiled, and her smile was a tether.
Her cradle was woven of debts and scripts,
her blanket stitched with envy.
The people saw her and longed,
Thus Nehara entered the world:
not as flame, nor law,
but as the thread that binds them both.

Proverbs of Nehara, the Weaver of Hungers

Every word is a knot, and every knot a leash.
The gift of desire is sharper than its fulfillment.
Bind their envy to me, and they will worship willingly.
A kiss is the hook; a vow is the chain.
The womb is my marketplace; the cradle of my ledger.
I weave hunger into every blessing.
The more they drink, the thirstier they become.
I do not devour — I entwine.
I am the braid in their speech,
the thread in their law,
the knot in their prayers.
Satiation is my lie; longing my gospel.
Every promise is debt; every debt is devotion.
What they love, I bind; what they fear, I tighten.
The more they resist, the tighter they are woven.

The Last Vision of Nehara

And I beheld a multitude clothed in wedding garments,
yet their veils were chains,
their bouquets woven of ash.
The Bride stood among them,
Nehara, crowned in braids of fire,
robed in ribbons of longing.
Her hands extended in embrace,
but her touch bound wrists,
her kiss closed throats,
her milk turned thirst into worship.
The people sang, but their hymns were knots.
They danced, but their steps were fetters.
They pledged love, but their vows were debts.
And Nehara laughed,
for even their freedom was woven from her threads.
I saw nations braided into treaties of famine,
children swaddled in cords of envy,
lovers chained together until their hearts broke.
The loom of the world shuddered,
its threads stretched to breaking,
its knots pulled so tight they cut through flesh.
And the tapestry tore,
leaving only strands of smoke in the wind.