Ekphrasis
A point, sharp as any razor, carves out its place in the open air. The obsidian edges gleam with holy knowledge as it waits for its time with bated breath. Its surface is adorned with writhing, serpentine form that curl their way around each other and up towards the ornate handle. Each line hewn into smooth stone, each careful, loving notch coalesces into a mesmerizing pattern that whispers of secrets unspoken, thrice repeated. Sacred geometry, the amalgamation of angle and form. He stands colossal, though his stature is slight. Atop this chiseled tower sits a face thrice repeated, eyes wide and mouths forever frozen in a twisted grimace of his dark blessing. Wrath. Joy. Peace. The three scream out into space, and in the minute expressions of his face there is little difference. As fearsome Cerberus guards over the Stygian realm, so does this sacred man preside over the realm of his children with tempestuous abandon. His material body was forged with the