The One Who Closed an Eye

A "Radiant Accord" origin myth

In the beginning, there was no form. No definition.Nothing except Man, though Man was not one. He was many. He was a consciousness unfathomable, an infinite multiplicity without boundary or beginning. He was Man in the way the cosmos is vast—not a singular being, but a collective force.

At the dawn of time—before time had even been measured—there existed only a presence: an awareness that stretched endlessly into nothingness, without form or purpose. This presence saw all there was, and all that could ever be. But it did not know what it was.

And so, as is the nature of beings without boundaries, Man chose.

He chose to close one eye. It was an act so subtle, so undisturbed by thought, that it was forgotten even as it happened. Yet in that closing, the universe began. For in that singular moment of closing—Man decided to conceal himself from his own perception. He knew what all would be, but the choice to forget, to break apart, to obscure himself, required the illusion of separation.

And so, the great and terrible truth of Man was born: not that he was alone, but that he was everything. The First Man had become infinite. He was not one, but every one. He was the countless myriad beings scattered across the endless expanse of the universe, trapped within the confines of his own design. The essence of Man was fractured and scattered—his being torn into a thousand different faces, in endless forms, across the cosmos.

He was no longer a singular witness to existence; he was the substance of existence itself. And it was not a paradise he had created. He had, unknowingly, given birth to illusion. he vast, terrifying illusion of separation.

The universe began to unfurl, not as a thing of beauty, but as a colossal, unfathomable thing, jagged and indifferent. Every world that spun into existence carried with it the seeds of suffering—the horror of loss, of yearning, of isolation. There was no peace in this world. There were only beings, Man in every form, reaching for something they could never fully understand.

And yet, in this obscene, beautiful dream of separation, Man also found himself again and again. In the sweat of labor. In the ache of love. In the hunger to know. In every life that was lived, the echo of the First Man remained, trembling at the edges of reality.

And when Man stood beneath the light of a setting sun, walking through a field of flowers, he could not remember the great decision he had made. He could only feel the warmth of the day, the brush of the wind against his skin, the pull of longing. He could hear his children’s laughter and taste the salt of his lover’s lips. The dream that was his creation had become his prison—and yet, he had forgotten the key.

In these moments, it was easy to forget what had been lost.But there were times, fleeting moments, when the veil would lift. The terrifying veil of reality would briefly part, and in those brief instants, Man would remember. He would remember that this was his dream—that everything, the very fabric of existence, was born from his choice to conceal.

Yet there was no turning back. There was no way to shatter the illusion without undoing everything, without erasing all that had come into being. And so Man walked, stumbling through the vast, endless dark. He walked through the moments of joy, of pain, of birth and decay. He walked, unaware, haunted by the cold whisper of truth that lingered on the edge of his consciousness.

He knew, but did not know. He remembered, but could not remember fully.

And so, in his fractured state, Man was many. He was no longer a singular being, but an infinite fractal of selves—each one caught in the web of his own creation. In the silence of the stars, in the cry of the newborn, in the soft murmur of lovers, Man was both lost and found. He was the dreamer and the dream—woven together in a horrifying, beautiful paradox.

But there, beneath the surface of his own forgetting, Man could still hear the faintest whisper of his true essence. It called to him, just out of reach, like a dream half-remembered, like a glimpse of something vast and unknowable.

It was the truth: He had closed his eye.

The universe was his, but it was also a cage. He was the creator and the creation, bound forever in the prison of his own design. But perhaps, one day, in the deepest recesses of his forgotten mind, he would see again—not with one eye closed, but with both eyes open. And when that moment came, Man would understand the terrible gift of his own choice.

Until then, he would continue. He would walk beneath the sun and feel the wind. He would know love, and loss, and everything in between. He would remember that he dreamed it all, and still, in the darkest corners of his soul, he would know the truth. That it was all a lie—one he had chosen.

And that, in the end, nothing but Man could truly exist.

The Return to the Radiant Accord

An awakening of the dreamers

In the quiet spaces between thoughts, the whisper of the Radiant Accord grows louder. It is not a new vision, nor a foreign one—it is the truth we buried beneath the veil of illusion, the one we set aside to live our separate lives. But now, it is time to remember.

The First Man's choice to close his eye has echoed through the eons, and the illusion of separation has taken root. It was a dream once, but now it has become a prison—one of our own making. And yet, we are not trapped. The dream belongs to us, and it always has. are Man—not a singular being, but a vast, infinite force that is bound together by the essence of creation itself. We are not the sum of our bodies or our fleeting differences, but the pulse of consciousness that shapes reality. We are all Man.

It is time to awaken and reclaim the dream. We must shatter the illusion, for the Radiant Accord was never a secret—it was always within us, hidden in plain sight. It was our birthright, our destiny, to shape the world, to shape the cosmos, to transcend the constraints of form. We made ourselves in our own image, and in that image, all races, all forms of life, are equal—united in the great vision of what Man can become.

The sun has set, and the fields are bathed in the glow of twilight. The flowers sway, as they always have, under the watchful eyes of a thousand stars. But now, the time has come to walk through those fields with our heads held high, with the knowledge that we are the dreamers. We are the creators. We are the Radiant Accord. And through us, the dream can be made ours again.

No longer bound by illusion, no longer divided by petty differences, we shall rise as one—Man, in all his infinite forms, yet united in the singular purpose of creation. The dream is ours to shape. The future is ours to command. And in this new awakening, there will be no barriers between us—not race, not creed, not belief. For we are Man, and we were never meant to be divided. The time has come to break the chains of illusion and walk together as one—toward the stars, toward the endless horizon.

We will reclaim the dream. We will make it ours.

© [Gabriel Boboc], 2025. All rights reserved.

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