02/03/2026
Tack alla besökare (även ni ofrivilliga besökare) till våran vernissage!
Till denna månads vernisagebild så har Johan skrivit en kraftfull poem.
Vill ni få mer så har han en prisbelönt blogg Medium:
https://medium.com/
THE BLOOD VEIL
The Oldest Warning
Listen closely.
This is not a story meant to entertain you.
It is a story meant to spare you.
Because before there were roads… before there were kings… before men wrote laws for each other…
There was already something waiting for them in the dark.
The old tribes never named it at first. They only spoke of it in signs and gestures, as if saying its name might draw its gaze.
But names always come with time.
And the name that survived was this:
The Blood Veil.
It is not born.
It does not die.
It does not hunt like beasts hunt.
It does not rage like demons rage.
It waits.
That is its power.
It drifts between places where the world grows thin. Forest edges. Empty valleys. Silent roads. Rooms where dreams have been abandoned.
It waits for one thing only.
The scent of a fearful soul.
Not all fear calls it.
Not fear of wolves.
Not fear of storms.
Not fear of death.
Those are honest fears.
The Blood Veil hungers for a different kind.
The elders called it,
The Fear of Becoming.
The fear of stepping forward.
The fear of choosing your path.
The fear of living as you truly are.
That fear has a taste.
And the Veil can smell it from miles away.
Those who have seen it always say the same thing.
First.
Silence.
Not normal quiet.
But the kind where the world itself seems to hold its breath.
Then.
Weight.
The air grows heavy, like invisible water pressing against your skin.
Then.
Red.
Not bright.
Not shining.
But deep, drifting red. Like blood seen through smoke.
Floating.
Watching.
Learning.
If you stand strong when you see it…
It fades.
If you breathe steady…
It thins.
If your heart does not tremble…
It leaves.
Because it cannot touch those who face themselves.
But if your spirit shakes…
If your thoughts run…
If your soul whispers I am not enough…
Then the Veil opens.
And what lives inside it sees you.
The old fireside tellers spoke of what waits within.
Not monsters.
Not beasts.
People.
Or what is left of them.
Thin shapes. Bent shapes. Hollow shapes.
The Lost.
Those who spent their lives running from their own calling.
Those who buried their gifts.
Those who chose safety instead of truth.
Those who feared their own light.
They drift inside the veil like shadows trapped in red glass.
Watching.
Reaching.
Begging.
Not for mercy.
For another chance to live.
When the Veil finds someone like them…
It comes gently.
Kindly.
Slow as falling ash.
Because it knows it does not need force.
It only needs one moment.
One tremor of the heart.
One breath of surrender.
And when that happens.
The red mist touches skin.
And the whispers begin.
“You are tired.”
“You are afraid.”
“You can rest now.”
Those who listen…
Step forward.
Those who step forward…
Are never seen again.
But hear this my friend ,this is the part the elders always leaned close to whisper:
The Blood Veil has one weakness.
One.
It cannot take a soul that stands unafraid inside its own truth.
It cannot touch the one who dares to live fully.
It cannot claim the one who faces fear and walks through it.
Such souls burn too bright.
And the Veil…
Fears light.
So when the night grows silent…
When the air grows heavy…
When something red drifts at the edge of your sight…
Do not bow.
Do not run.
Do not shrink.
Stand.
Breathe.
Remember who you are.
Because the oldest wisdom ever spoken is this,
The Blood Veil does not devour the brave.
It only gathers the ones who surrendered before they ever truly lived.
So become who you where meant to be. Face your fears and follow the fire in your heart.
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