The Ox-Eyed and the Ox
A meditative interlude in the Sky-Veil series
The Sky-Veil series is a mythopoetic journey through a forgotten realm where the divine brushes the mortal. A nameless man awakens beneath a veil of sorrow and memory, guided by three silent goddesses across a path of signs, silence, and sacred trials. His quest is not to rise in power, but to remember his name—and the order of Being itself. This is a story of longing, wisdom, and the quiet majesty that crowns the soul.
The Sky-Veil series was written and developed by Walter Emerson Adams with creative assistance from ChatGPT (OpenAI) as a language-shaping tool. All content and narrative remain original to the author.
In the Sky-Veil where memory shimmers and the winds still speak in the tongues of gods, there walked a Woman crowned in majesty. Her eyes, wide and solemn as dusk over the ocean, held the gravity of stars emerging in the womb of night. She was called the Ox-Eyed, and the folds of her mantle brushed the highlands of majesty where Being had not yet become laws.
She did not speak often, for her gaze carried her word before it was spoken. In her presence, time was gathered into a quiet throne. She stood at the edge of the Veil, where Heaven leans to whisper into Earth.
And from beyond the groves of Reason came a low and steady tread—the step of the Ox. He moved slowly, but every step was a pillar in the temple of thought. Upon his back, invisible yet weighty, rested tomes not yet written and questions not yet asked. His head bowed not in ignorance but in wonder, for his strength was not pride, but reverence.
She saw him and did not speak. He looked at her and did not question.
Between them, the world held its breath.
She gestured—just once—with a hand that bore no rings, only the memory of lightning and queenship. A door opened not in space, but in knowing. The Ox stepped forward, and the stars adjusted their course.
He passed under the gaze of the Ox-Eyed, and with each step, myth became metaphysics, symbol became syllogism, and love became law. Yet none of these were diminished. Each glowed brighter in the touch of the other.
The Ox did not forget her. Nor did she abandon him. For though they walked different paths—one through forests of intuition, the other across the plains of logic—they both led to the same Mountain, whose summit pierced even the Sky-Veil.
And there, at the edge of all knowing, where the last word ends in silence, she waits still. And he walks still. And we—children of both gaze and gait—are called to follow.
Enjoy “The Ox-Eyed and the Ox,” from my album The Sky-Veil, available on my music site.
Lyrics ©Walter Emerson Adams. Music and vocals by Suno ©Walter Emerson Adams.
In the Sky-Veil, where memories Shine and still speak to deities There walked a Woman crowned in gold Her eyes, wide, solemn to behold She was called the Ox-Eyed, who spoke Time weaved itself ‘round as her cloak The folds of her light mantle brushed The Highlands of Majesty hushed And from near the groves of Reason Came low and firm steps in season The Ox, a pillar of deep thought His head bowed in wonder now sought Upon his back, weighty, unseen Rested books he wrote for the Queen With questions unasked, unspoken He passed as she gazed, awoken She saw him pass and did not speak. He looked at her humbly, not weak. Between them, the world held its breath Bonded, they ascended past death
I know who the Ox is--I've met him before in your poetry.😉