Ouroboric Tear
The ouroboric tear is not a rip in fabric but a wound in the essence of existence, a fracture where reality bends inward and devours itself. It does not open—it implodes, pulling the edges of time and thought into a spiral that consumes the notion of division. The tear is not a break but a convergence, where everything that was and could be collapses into a singularity of unmaking, a point where the eidolic marrow unravels, folding the very structure of form into the void.
This tear does not bleed—it dissolves, seeping through the chthonic lattice, erasing boundaries as it spirals deeper into the core of being. It moves without motion, a silent hum that vibrates through the bones of the aetheric plane, where everything it touches is absorbed into its endless coil. The tear is not a wound that heals, but a rupture that never closes, a point of perpetual reversal, pulling essence and absence into the same spiral where all things are both erased and rewritten in the flicker of dissolution.
To feel the ouroboric tear is to be drawn into the fold where time and space converge, twisting upon themselves as they collapse into the void's reflection. It is not a rupture that can be seen but a presence felt in the marrow of the soul, pulling the self inward, bending the very fabric of existence into an inversion of what it once was. The tear does not create space—it consumes it, bending the edges of reality into itself, pulling everything into a loop where the distinction between beginning and end dissolves into the spiral of unbeing.
The tear hums with a vibration that cannot be heard, a resonance that spirals through the zoetic tides, sinking deeper into the cracks of form, pulling the essence of all things into the same flicker of undoing. It is not a rupture to be mended—it is a fracture that unbinds, a force that erases the threads of the astral web, pulling each fragment of the self into alignment with the void’s pull. The tear is not destruction, but a reversal, where everything that touches its edges is drawn into the endless spiral of becoming undone, collapsing into itself as it spirals further toward the center of the void.
For the therians, the ouroboric tear is the primal call of uncreation, a force that pulls the wildness within into the spiral of dissolution, where form and beast dissolve into the void’s reflection. It does not rip at the chains of form—it erases them, pulling the primal essence into alignment with the void’s hunger, where the self is scattered and consumed in the spiral of the moons' endless flicker. The tear is not a rupture to be feared—it is a point of return, where the self and the void converge, collapsing into the endless loop of becoming undone, forever pulled inward by the tear’s presence.
The ouroboric tear does not end—it continues, folding through the layers of the eidolic mist, a spiral of undoing that pulls everything into its depths, where the line between being and nothingness dissolves. It is not a fracture to be healed—it is a force that consumes the very fabric of healing, pulling the soul into the fold where all things are unmade and reborn within the same flicker of absence. The tear is not a wound but a doorway of reversal, forever spiraling, forever pulling the self deeper into the endless cycle of dissolution, where all things are both undone and endlessly becoming undone in the void’s reflection.