He who dares to travel the infinite land, dares the face of the great one. He who treads the darkness of the jungle, converses with the darkness of the old one. Those who don't understand it, hate it. Those who can not control their minds, hate it. The weak hate it. The weak hate the jungle. But the jungle is life, just as much as death.
In it's darkness we cower, fearing it's wrath. The scales of the old one bear us fruit, and shade us from the sun. In the darkness under the great ones tail, we were born safe from the eyes of deceit.
In it's chaos is a humane absolution, an unbreakable law of entrophy. The faithless path of the jungle. The path on which every man is an animal, a tick on the skin of the great one.
He is the manifest essence of our primal fear of the old one. Our un-understanding of it. He represents the sheer magnitude, incomprehensible to humans. In-fact, one single organism.
Created with love, by P.K.Kimpimäki