This is the owl. The owl can appear anywhere, at any time. A stain. A smear on your glasses. You might pass it many times without noticing it. But you will notice.
The owl will follow you. It will appear on things close you you. The rings in your bathtub. The grease congealing in the kitchen sink. It is a pattern you alone will recognize. It is only when the sightings increase in frequency that you will realize: the pattern is not on your world but your eyes themselves.
The owl will seep into everything you love. It will make the world dirty to you. Blink and rub it out, it will only swim back into your vision. Colors will molder. Light will dim. And with sight go the other senses. Soon you will be able to smell it, the smell of corruption. You will feel its outline on your eyelids, it is embossed into your pupils. It will send you down avenues you never knew existed.
It will change you.
Love will curdle. Compassion will sour. The world around you will shrink as it rots, as pieces of you break away. You will not remember the smell of fresh air, the sun on your face. The owl will ferment you in the shelter of its wings until you are just, just right.
And when you are right, when you are ripe, it will eat everything. All that you are. And it is only then, in these last moments, that you will see its true form.