Door V geschilderd
NOT ALL DEATH COMES TO TAKE.
SOME DEATH STANDS GUARD.
Do not fear it.
It only looks like what others ran from.
Every age remembers a different beloved.
Yet the descriptions are strangely similar.
Noctyrnis Kains Muse
Noctyrnis is not the end of light,
but the presence that remains
when light can no longer protect itself.
She does not rescue gently.
She does not comfort without shadow.
She stands where fear becomes intimate,
where death leans close,
and the soul learns
that not every darkness comes to devour.
Some darkness watches.
Some darkness remembers.
Some darkness holds
what the world was too bright to see.
Noctyrnis is the night
that does not abandon the fragile.
The Twin Queens of Noctyrnis
No crown has ever been found.
No throne has ever been seen.
Only two figures wandering the gardens of Noctyrnis beneath an unseen moon.
One appears where beauty is remembered.
The other where beauty is forgotten.
Few can tell them apart.
Fewer still can say which one they met.
Death has danced with many lost partners.
De beschermer van wat niet meer aanwezig is.
500 Terry Francine Street
San Francisco, CA 94158
March 14, 1984
Noctyrnis
Some stars only become visible when all others fade away.
is on the border between seeing and feeling in the darkness, always subtly present
She's there—just beyond the edge of your consciousness, where shadows tremble but never threaten.
She appears neither in light nor in complete darkness.
It lives in the in-between.
This song fits the Noctyrnis vibe better.
Title: Does Death Know the End, or an End?
—V
Noctyrnis
Geschilderd: V
Noctʌrnʌs — the primordial core that never dies out.
Noctyrnis
If the answer truly existed… would you really want to know what happens after death?
Or is the abstraction itself what makes it so beautiful?
The Innocent Naivety
👀 Look closely.
Do you see it too — that smile that seems too perfect?
Those eyes that know more than they reveal? 👁️✨
Pluto's eyes shine with life,
but Mickeys are empty, without soul —
as if there's nothing behind it. 🌟⚫
He wears the mantle of childish innocence,
But somewhere that facade is cracking. 🧸❄️
Do you dare to see the hidden details? 🔍
The shadow that lurks —
even a boner, hidden in Mickey's pants,
as an inconvenient truth
that you don't dare to name right away. 😶🌫️
This is not an invitation to judge,
but a silent question to you:
Do you dare to see what is hidden?
behind the smile of naivety? 🎭
Because sometimes innocence is just a mask,
and naivety a thin veil
behind which the unspoken lives. 🌫️🤐
-V
Noctyrnis
is not something that appears
when you look.
It is that thing
what is already present
the moment you realize
that you are looking.
Most people don't see it.
Not because it is hidden,
but because it makes no effort to be seen.
But sometimes—
just for a moment—
when your attention stops,
and you are no longer searching…
you feel a slight shift.
As if:
the space comes a little closer
the center no longer lies outside you
and silence…
is not empty but aimed
That is the moment.
Not when you find it—
but when it
notices you
And the strange thing is:
Nothing happens.
No vote.
No sign.
Just this feeling:
that you don't just look
but looks into something
that can look back
And as soon as you try to hold it…
is it gone.
Not because it disappears—
but because you again
tries to understand
instead of seeing.
Noctyrnis cannot be caught.
Only recognized.
On Hell
An eternal hell serves no purpose.
What cannot change,
cannot learn.
What cannot learn,
cannot grow.
A darkness without the possibility of return
is not justice.
It is merely a door
that forgot why it was built.
— V
Shoulder to Shoulder
We do not walk together
because the light called us,
but because the darkness
became too heavy to carry alone.
Our armor is worn —
not only by battle,
but by staying
when leaving would have been easier.
What burns between us
is not anger.
It is a quiet promise:
I am still here.
And when the path fades
and the dark draws closer…
who still stands beside you?
The Gift
Not everything that appears
comes from light.
Sometimes the night opens —
just enough —
and places something small
in your hand.
No reason.
No explanation.
When thought falls quiet,
nothing remains —
but a quiet openness.
A flower.
A feather.
Something that whispers:
even here,
something is given.
And when the night offers you something…
will you
receive it?
