Kismet is not just a boa. He is a presence. A rhythm. A teacher.
He entered my life not as a pet, but as a partner in stillness, a reminder of what can only be known through waiting, shedding, and silent watching.
His coils are not death traps. They are circles of power.
His gaze is not cold. It’s ancient. It sees what you don’t yet know you carry.
In this space, Kismet is honored as both creature and symbol.
His care is practical and loving: clean water, safe space, warmth, time.
But his companionship moves deeper, into the mythic, the metaphysical, the mysterious.
Here, I document our shared journey.
The rhythms of feeding, resting, shedding.
The teachings that emerge without language.
The sacred reflections that rise like breath from scale.
This is The Book of Kismet.
Part log. Part scripture.
Part devotion to a life lived in slow, sacred coils.
About the Keeper
I’m Tommesa, the one who writes what Kismet teaches—sometimes with clarity, sometimes in fragments.
A metaphysician by path, a poet by necessity, and a keeper of slow truths.
This space is as much for me as it is for him: a place to record, reflect, and remember.
If you read between the lines, you’ll find pieces of me coiled in every post.
Not everything I share is certain. But it is always sincere.
Welcome.
Book of Kismet 