The Sun Worship of Kvelertak's Meir
“everything is hot and wonderful and wholly impossible”
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Kvelertak is obviously writing music for the eventual day when people finally set foot on the sun: guitar lines fly out like giant flares, breakdowns occur like huge disparate magnetic storms, everything is hot and wonderful and wholly impossible to face down comfortably, solar winds whipping at whatever crazy heat resistant suits and shielding we've cased ourselves within knowing it will never be enough. They will melt around us, everything will melt, in the onslaught approach that is the sun, our very souls will be steam in light.
But the sun is the goal after all. With our concept of heaven tied in the sky and our notion of God being that which powers the universe, and our science telling us the sun literally powers our universe, and our desires to constantly meet God, to see face to face with the unknown, why not just out and say it, our God is the Sun. It's not crazy to think we won't one day make the plunge (several plunges) into close space to touch him.
Soft hands, encased in heat resistant fibers we've yet to discover, reach into the boiled swirling orange glow of a space gas fire combustion so massive and inexplicable even giants cannot fully explain what it is, as the incandescent gasses shear their future gloves into tiny bits of molten energy, and the hands char into dust, as unseeing eyes vaporize and ooze out of tiny liquefying skulls. Again and again.
There is no stopping our reach, each time the Sun destroys us, we strive that much further to achieve its embrace. We know it gives us cancer, we know it means to kill us all in the end, but what kind of God would so willingly treat its disciples with such disdain? So we continue to hold out hope that it loves us, and we bask in its warming glow, and what a glow!
And one day we build a suit that doesn't melt, somehow, some way, we are fired through the near abyss and as the shuttle is demolished around us we fall into the face of the Sun itself, eyes intact long enough to process its truth. It is impossible and yet, it is entirely possible.
Because that is what God must be.
We can only meet him if there is no return guaranteed. Only if there is no way to share what we learn in the heart of the Sun. Only that we can recognize the maelstrom as aria, the torment as rapture, ignorance as surrender. Love and death and fire. All the same truth as the Infinite. Knowing God—as easy as touching the Sun. Kvelertak fucking gets it.
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