Texts by Sylvie Alice Royer *

Alter ego

I lie in the hollow of your dream,
In the apnoea of your breathing.

You sense me in the receding wave
Like a reflection changed forever,
Trying to recreate the image of your wholeness.

I am your forgotten legend.


The call from my depths is tied to the stars.

Strangely, the wave leads to verticality, because above resides high water. If my reflections capture your image ceaselessly, it is to bring you closer to your cosmic essence.

The Sound of Water

Water becomes crystal-clear to the attentive ear.

In the vacuity of the present moment, I place my spirit on the watery surface. I hear its great aqueous body resonate: there a message can be found, secretly encoded since the distant Pleiades.

The water of my body joins softly with these receiving molecules, organising the perfect syntony, letting me receive the forgotten words of Nibiru:

The iridescent mirrors bring us back to the otherness of our first dream
Such an apogee perpetuates itself in your being
Conscious of your sublime heritage
Listen to the song in your vermilion vessels:
It’s the mystical water that acts upon the World

Materia prima

Death associated with water is more dream-like than death associated with earth:
the pain of water is infinite.

Gaston Bachelard
Water and Dreams

To drink at my source is to drink your soul.
You consume me, I mingle in you.

I sink in the dirty waters of the great fjord
Like the sad Antarctica where orphaned ice floes
Evaporate above the southern seas.

The Adelies discuss amongst themselves
My returns.

Materia prima

The Flooded Forest

Water continuously reflects our aspirations, offering each of us a flawless mirror in which to observe its chimera. Oceanic memory thus contains all human dreams, like an essential “relay” to awakening consciousness:

A forest of flooded symbols beneath the edge of the skimming.

A refraction without silvering in a state of perpetual ravishment of itself.

A narcissistic dream from which one awakens little by little.


North Mirror-South Mirror

I look,
I listen
The imperceptible acoustic wave that comes from the abyss.
The distant groan of a great manatee that stirs me to the depth of my soul.

I see every corrosive drop fallen from human ignorance come to life under my feet and form a foul, brackish sheet.

I hear,
I see
These abusive particles which imitate life
I observe them in the centre of the marine plankton.

The ocean in my eye,
A murky sun,

I feel the immense fragility of the horizon.

The Drop of Water

The fleeting chrysalis removes itself from its uterine hiding place,
Beautified, ennobled,
Amazed at the changeover,

A desire for transmutation similarly inhabits a woman’s body,
A golden hiatus in the mass of bones,
A vibrant nest in which to return to the source.

Suspended between inhalation and exhalation:
The drop of water.


I carry on my forehead the radiant signs of Nibiru, Nemesis and Marduk.

Sparkling water streams across my starry eyes.
My hair is wild grass which finally weaves the new veil with which to clasp the Mother. My grateful kisses fall on every generation.

My overseas planet

Aqua Mechanica

I am a liquid crystal
Whose sacred geometry acts on fluids.
Under the membrane of my being
A strange process is underway:
Aqua Mechanica.

Behind the veil, this enigmatic mechanism
Bears my gestures and cradles my duration.
Nature works there in silent implosions
So that a thousand starting overs ensure my journey.

I walk on stars
Reflecting on their reality in the mechanics of the wave.

Great changes are taking place in me.

Renibus - Nature's Intelligent Order

The graceful sparganium are born in the squooge of the silt
Enduring wonder
So did salamander-man wriggle out of the mud
Like golden wheat sown with the milk of stars

All the clay on earth contains the Word
Each quantum of energy contributes to the emergence of the ordinary miracle
A sparganium, a salamander-man

Life toils
Life opens
Man and the sparganium
Their ball-like heads rustle
Buffeted by the fingers of pensive winds
The sparganium dances
Man observes the moon
His head full of discussions

"Tell me about the wild grass"

"My hidden face is no more mysterious
Than the sparganium undulating in the pond
Ceaselessly giving new life to the luminous water
Penetrate, then, the immense and joyful choreography
And find your stride"

To write to Sylvie Alice Royer: yorre@ccapcable.com

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