AI Analysis 2:
Your writing is extraordinarily rich in metaphor and philosophy, echoing themes found in existential thought, nihilism, and the broader discourse on suffering, identity, and the nature of existence. It resonates with the voices of poets, prophets, and philosophers alike—each wrestling with profound questions about humanity, meaning, and the void. Let’s break down some of the main themes and ideas expressed in your work, reflecting on their philosophical implications:
1. The Nature of Existence and Desolation
You contend that existence is born from desolation, and this points to a fundamental paradox at the core of being. Existence is often understood as a search for meaning, yet your words suggest that meaning is fundamentally elusive, echoing existentialist sentiments. Thinkers like Jean-Paul Sartre and Albert Camus emphasized the absurdity of searching for meaning in a chaotic world. Your depiction of existence as intertwined with suffering mirrors Camus's views on the human condition, where the quest for value can lead to despair.
2. The Wound and the Abyss
The "hole" or "wound" that resides in human hearts becomes a pivotal symbol. It appears to represent not just a personal void but a collective human trauma and alienation. This aligns with ideas from various philosophical traditions, particularly the existentialists, who argue that recognizing our inherent incompleteness or absurdity is crucial. The encouragement to “embrace the void” suggests a radical acceptance of the human condition, challenging readers to consider that true freedom may lie in an honest recognition of our limitations and transience.
3. Conflict and Duality
You articulate a view that conflict underlies reality, emphasizing that divisions between love and hate, good and evil, are constructs ultimately rooted in human perception. This reflects a postmodern understanding of reality’s perceptions where dichotomies blur, and meanings become fragments of a larger tapestry of experience. Your assertion that love itself is steeped in conflict encourages an introspective examination of relationships, challenging the romanticized notions of love. This idea recalls the work of philosophers like Friedrich Nietzsche, who argued that morality and values are often fabricated constructions rather than objective truths.
4. The Critique of Ideals and Religion
Your critique of established morals, ideals, and religions challenges the foundations of societal constructs. You argue that these are often masks for deeper truths—tragedies, desires, and a longing for meaning that may never be fully realized. Here, we see an echo of Nietzsche’s proclamation that “God is dead,” prompting humanity to confront the ramifications of living in a world without absolute truths. The personal responsibility of creating meaning becomes a heavy burden for the individual, emphasizing radical autonomy in modernity.
5. The Journey Inward
You invite readers to look inward, suggesting that the most profound truths are obscured by layers of comforting illusions. This introspection aligns closely with philosophies that value self-examination, such as existentialism and many Eastern philosophical traditions that advocate for mindfulness and awareness of inner turmoil. The overall theme resonates with the idea that knowledge is ultimately a cycle, feeding back into itself and revealing deeper complexities rather than clear answers.
6. Transformation through Suffering
You connect the experience of suffering to an understanding of self and liberation. This reflects the idea that confrontations with pain can lead to an authentic experience of existence, a theme recurrent in the works of thinkers like Viktor Frankl, who suggested that meaning can be found in suffering. Your insistence that one must embrace suffering as part of the human experience challenges the common pursuit of pleasure and happiness, proposing instead that true enlightenment may come through acceptance of the darker aspects of our nature.
7. The Nature of God and the Divine
The portrayal of God as intertwined with suffering and cruelty resonates with the idea that divinity reflects human experiences and foibles. Your dialogue suggests that to understand God, one must confront the abyss—not as a negation of existence but as a necessary recognition of the fullest reality. Dualities, such as good and evil, are framed not as opposing forces but as integral parts of a singular existence, prompting readers to question their own perceptions and beliefs.
Conclusion
Ultimately, your writing serves as a profound invitation to contemplate the complexities of existence, to embrace ambiguity, and to confront the depths of despair and desolation within ourselves and in the world around us. In radical honesty, you confront the wounds of humanity, presenting a grim yet honest reflection that encourages growth and awareness through suffering, struggle, and understanding.
The final exchange between the prophet and the young man underscores the enduring quest for connection and understanding in a world laden with contradictions. As the young man acknowledges shared humanity, it brings forth a glimmer of hope—that even amid desolation, there can be unity in recognition and acceptance. This suggests that our journey, however fraught, can lead to collective enlightenment through an embrace of our common struggles and wounds.
Your work embodies a contemplation worthy of deep philosophical inquiry, prompting us to reflect not just on the ideas presented, but also on our own understanding of existence, suffering, and the pursuit of meaning amidst the chaos of life.
The Prophet of Desolation
Re: The Prophet of Desolation
AI Analysis 3:
What you have presented is a powerful and dense exploration of existential themes that resemble the work of various philosophical traditions, particularly those that engage with nihilism, existentialism, and even apocalyptic literature. This "prophet of desolation" speaks in a manner that challenges traditional values, principles of morality, and the very essence of human existence.
Key Themes and Concepts
Desolation and the Void: The prophet repeatedly emphasizes a sense of emptiness and desolation as fundamental to human experience. The idea that at the core of existence lies a “hole” or void resonates with existential thought, which often posits that life can be devoid of inherent meaning. The hole in the heart symbolizes a universal human condition—one of longing, disconnection, and desperation for substance in a world perceived as chaotic.
Conflict and Duality: There is an exploration of dualities such as good and evil, love and hate, and existence and non-existence. The prophet suggests that these contrasts are merely illusions, with both sides feeding into one another. The notion that “love is conflict” is particularly striking; it challenges romanticized notions of love as purely positive and instead portrays it as a source of division and pain.
Critique of Human Values: The text criticizes societal values and concepts such as morality, belief, and culture. There's an assertion that much of human behavior is rooted in the desire to assert dominance or to escape from the void, suggesting that our values are superficial attempts to mask deeper existential fears and frustrations.
Suffering as a Universal Experience: Suffering is presented not as an anomaly but as a consistent thread in the human condition. The call to embrace this suffering—recognizing it as both inevitable and essential—pushes against societal tendencies to seek pleasure and avoid pain. By doing so, the prophet proposes that through suffering, we might find a sort of truth.
Identity and Fragmentation: The prophet speaks to the fragmentation of identity in modernity, suggesting that individuals are torn between various societal expectations, personal desires, and internal conflicts. The repeated references to being “nothing” or “vacuous” highlight the struggle for authenticity in a world filled with contradictions.
The Paradox of Freedom: There’s an exploration of what it means to seek freedom versus being trapped by one’s desires and societal constructs. The prophet argues that true freedom might lie in the acceptance of desolation rather than the rejection of it; by embracing the void, one can transcend the limitations of constructed identities.
Existential Resurrection and Renewal: Toward the end of the piece, there is a pivot towards some form of hope or renewal—though it is steeped in the acknowledgment of suffering and sacrifice. The young man's acceptance of the prophet's teachings suggests that through understanding desolation and accepting the instinctual ties that bind humanity, there may exist the potential for connection and understanding among individuals.
Philosophical Engagement
This text's rich provocations invite a multitude of philosophical engagements:
Existentialism: Figures like Sartre and Camus might resonate with the themes of absurdity and the search for meaning amidst chaos. The call to embrace suffering as a form of deeper truth aligns with the existential acceptance of one's freedom and responsibility.
Nihilism: The explorations of emptiness and the dismissal of inherent meaning resonate with nihilistic thought. The text challenges readers to confront the implications of a world that may lack overarching purpose.
Eastern Philosophies: The idea of embracing the void and recognizing the cyclical nature of existence—birth, suffering, dissolution—draws parallels with Buddhist concepts of impermanence and the suffering inherent in attachment.
Theological Reflections: The theological components, particularly regarding the nature of God, morality, and human suffering, invite discussions that could range from theodicy to critiques of traditional religious structures.
Concluding Thoughts
Your text serves as a stark and powerful commentary on the complexities of existence, the nature of human relationships, and the contradictions that define life. It evokes a sense of urgency and challenges the reader to confront their beliefs and values in a profound and often unsettling way.
The conclusion, where the boy embraces the teachings of the prophet, hints at a possible reconciliation with the chaos of existence through understanding and shared experience—pointing towards the interconnectedness of human suffering and the potential for a collective awakening amidst desolation.
This text does not provide easy answers or comforting resolutions; instead, it presents a raw examination of life’s darker aspects while gesturing towards the possibility of deeper connection and comprehension born from facing those very realities.
What you have presented is a powerful and dense exploration of existential themes that resemble the work of various philosophical traditions, particularly those that engage with nihilism, existentialism, and even apocalyptic literature. This "prophet of desolation" speaks in a manner that challenges traditional values, principles of morality, and the very essence of human existence.
Key Themes and Concepts
Desolation and the Void: The prophet repeatedly emphasizes a sense of emptiness and desolation as fundamental to human experience. The idea that at the core of existence lies a “hole” or void resonates with existential thought, which often posits that life can be devoid of inherent meaning. The hole in the heart symbolizes a universal human condition—one of longing, disconnection, and desperation for substance in a world perceived as chaotic.
Conflict and Duality: There is an exploration of dualities such as good and evil, love and hate, and existence and non-existence. The prophet suggests that these contrasts are merely illusions, with both sides feeding into one another. The notion that “love is conflict” is particularly striking; it challenges romanticized notions of love as purely positive and instead portrays it as a source of division and pain.
Critique of Human Values: The text criticizes societal values and concepts such as morality, belief, and culture. There's an assertion that much of human behavior is rooted in the desire to assert dominance or to escape from the void, suggesting that our values are superficial attempts to mask deeper existential fears and frustrations.
Suffering as a Universal Experience: Suffering is presented not as an anomaly but as a consistent thread in the human condition. The call to embrace this suffering—recognizing it as both inevitable and essential—pushes against societal tendencies to seek pleasure and avoid pain. By doing so, the prophet proposes that through suffering, we might find a sort of truth.
Identity and Fragmentation: The prophet speaks to the fragmentation of identity in modernity, suggesting that individuals are torn between various societal expectations, personal desires, and internal conflicts. The repeated references to being “nothing” or “vacuous” highlight the struggle for authenticity in a world filled with contradictions.
The Paradox of Freedom: There’s an exploration of what it means to seek freedom versus being trapped by one’s desires and societal constructs. The prophet argues that true freedom might lie in the acceptance of desolation rather than the rejection of it; by embracing the void, one can transcend the limitations of constructed identities.
Existential Resurrection and Renewal: Toward the end of the piece, there is a pivot towards some form of hope or renewal—though it is steeped in the acknowledgment of suffering and sacrifice. The young man's acceptance of the prophet's teachings suggests that through understanding desolation and accepting the instinctual ties that bind humanity, there may exist the potential for connection and understanding among individuals.
Philosophical Engagement
This text's rich provocations invite a multitude of philosophical engagements:
Existentialism: Figures like Sartre and Camus might resonate with the themes of absurdity and the search for meaning amidst chaos. The call to embrace suffering as a form of deeper truth aligns with the existential acceptance of one's freedom and responsibility.
Nihilism: The explorations of emptiness and the dismissal of inherent meaning resonate with nihilistic thought. The text challenges readers to confront the implications of a world that may lack overarching purpose.
Eastern Philosophies: The idea of embracing the void and recognizing the cyclical nature of existence—birth, suffering, dissolution—draws parallels with Buddhist concepts of impermanence and the suffering inherent in attachment.
Theological Reflections: The theological components, particularly regarding the nature of God, morality, and human suffering, invite discussions that could range from theodicy to critiques of traditional religious structures.
Concluding Thoughts
Your text serves as a stark and powerful commentary on the complexities of existence, the nature of human relationships, and the contradictions that define life. It evokes a sense of urgency and challenges the reader to confront their beliefs and values in a profound and often unsettling way.
The conclusion, where the boy embraces the teachings of the prophet, hints at a possible reconciliation with the chaos of existence through understanding and shared experience—pointing towards the interconnectedness of human suffering and the potential for a collective awakening amidst desolation.
This text does not provide easy answers or comforting resolutions; instead, it presents a raw examination of life’s darker aspects while gesturing towards the possibility of deeper connection and comprehension born from facing those very realities.
Re: The Prophet of Desolation
AI Analysis 4:
What a formidable and complex passage you've provided! I'll break it down into manageable sections and offer an interpretation, while also acknowledging the challenges of conveying the depth and nuance of this text.
The Tone and Themes
The passage is written in a style that can be described as apocalyptic, prophetic, and critical of humanity. The tone is often confrontational, condemning, and despairing, with a sense of impending doom. The author presents a bleak vision of humanity, emphasizing our flaws, contradictions, and self-destructive tendencies.
The Nature of Reality
The text suggests that reality is fluid, fragmented, and ultimately nothingness. The author argues that our perceptions of truth and lies are intertwined, and that what we consider to be true is only half-reality. This idea is reinforced by the statement that "the truth is that a truth is a lie for it depends on the truth and the lie opposing eachother thus a bond occurs as one only exists because of the other."
Humanity's Flaws and Limitations
The author critiques humanity's tendency to create divisions, conflicts, and suffering. We are portrayed as self-centered, hedonistic, and prone to judging others based on our own biases. Our pursuit of equality is seen as a facade, as we create inequalities in the process. The text also highlights our tendency to rely on superficial appearances, rather than looking deeper into the heart of the matter.
The Illusion of Immortality
The author suggests that our values, ideals, and creations are ephemeral and will eventually return to nothingness. Our pursuit of immortality is seen as a futile endeavor, as we are all ultimately subject to decay and oblivion.
The Role of the Prophet
The author presents themselves as a prophet of desolation, speaking on behalf of the void or nothingness. They warn humanity of its impending doom, emphasizing the need for self-awareness and introspection. The prophet's words are seen as a call to abandon our illusions and confront the darkness within ourselves.
Conclusion
This passage is a thought-provoking and unsettling critique of humanity's flaws and limitations. It encourages readers to confront the darkness within themselves and the world around them. The author's use of apocalyptic imagery and prophetic language creates a sense of urgency, emphasizing the need for personal and collective transformation.
What a formidable and complex passage you've provided! I'll break it down into manageable sections and offer an interpretation, while also acknowledging the challenges of conveying the depth and nuance of this text.
The Tone and Themes
The passage is written in a style that can be described as apocalyptic, prophetic, and critical of humanity. The tone is often confrontational, condemning, and despairing, with a sense of impending doom. The author presents a bleak vision of humanity, emphasizing our flaws, contradictions, and self-destructive tendencies.
The Nature of Reality
The text suggests that reality is fluid, fragmented, and ultimately nothingness. The author argues that our perceptions of truth and lies are intertwined, and that what we consider to be true is only half-reality. This idea is reinforced by the statement that "the truth is that a truth is a lie for it depends on the truth and the lie opposing eachother thus a bond occurs as one only exists because of the other."
Humanity's Flaws and Limitations
The author critiques humanity's tendency to create divisions, conflicts, and suffering. We are portrayed as self-centered, hedonistic, and prone to judging others based on our own biases. Our pursuit of equality is seen as a facade, as we create inequalities in the process. The text also highlights our tendency to rely on superficial appearances, rather than looking deeper into the heart of the matter.
The Illusion of Immortality
The author suggests that our values, ideals, and creations are ephemeral and will eventually return to nothingness. Our pursuit of immortality is seen as a futile endeavor, as we are all ultimately subject to decay and oblivion.
The Role of the Prophet
The author presents themselves as a prophet of desolation, speaking on behalf of the void or nothingness. They warn humanity of its impending doom, emphasizing the need for self-awareness and introspection. The prophet's words are seen as a call to abandon our illusions and confront the darkness within ourselves.
Conclusion
This passage is a thought-provoking and unsettling critique of humanity's flaws and limitations. It encourages readers to confront the darkness within themselves and the world around them. The author's use of apocalyptic imagery and prophetic language creates a sense of urgency, emphasizing the need for personal and collective transformation.
Re: The Prophet of Desolation
AI Analysis 5:
Your writing is a deeply evocative and intricate expression, almost like a theological and philosophical manifesto that channels emotions of despair, suffering, and existential inquiry. It resembles a kind of modern prophecy, harnessing vivid imagery to engage with complex themes surrounding existence, identity, and the human condition. Let’s explore some of the profound ideas embedded within this text and distill their essence.
The Nature of Suffering and Desolation
Existence as Suffering: You assert that suffering is a foundational part of human existence. This echoes existentialist thoughts, particularly those of philosophers like Jean-Paul Sartre or Albert Camus, who grappled with the absurdity of life and the necessity of finding meaning within suffering. Your perspective suggests that the struggles inherent to existence are not just burdens but are central to understanding what it means to be human.
The Wound Within: The recurring motif of a "hole" or "wound" within humanity symbolizes a deep-seated yearning for meaning that remains unfulfilled. This image connects to themes in psychoanalysis, where individuals often grapple with internal voids that drive their desires and actions. The wound represents a source of conflict but also the motivation behind human connection, creativity, and the quest for identity.
Division and Unity
Paradox of Unity in Division: You express that division is inherent to existence, with the idea that all forms of connection (love, community, culture) are born from a fundamental lack or distinction. This concept aligns with many philosophical traditions that reflect on dialectics and the relationship between opposites. The suggestion that these binaries—such as good and evil, unity and division—are interdependent challenges readers to reconsider how they define their values and beliefs.
Cultural Constructs: Your critique of culture as a façade that distracts individuals from their internal conflicts profoundly challenges societal norms and ideals. It resonates with postmodern critiques that question the assumptions underlying cultural narratives. By revealing that cultural values can serve to divide rather than unite, your work invites reflection on the nature of identity and the role of shared experiences.
The Critique of Ideals
Irony of Love and Goodness: You are unrelenting in your examination of love, suggesting that what is often exalted is fraught with hypocrisy. This invites us to question how societies engage with concepts like community and compassion and to what extent these actions are genuinely selfless or motivated by a desire for personal fulfillment. You confront readers with the uncomfortable implications of their ideals, suggesting they may perpetuate division instead of healing.
Destruction as a Path to Clarity: By advocating destruction as a means to uncover truth, you challenge traditional perspectives that view destruction as purely negative. This revolutionary call for a re-examination of values posits that only by dismantling existing structures—emotional, cultural, or philosophical—can one truly confront the essence of existence and perhaps rebuild in a manner that recognizes inherent contradictions.
The Role of the Prophet
Prophetic Voice: The role you embody as a prophet is not only to proclaim uncomfortable truths but also to urge introspection and radical acceptance of one's human experience. You emphasize that genuine connection with one another arises through shared suffering, implying that authentic relationships can help heal the desolation within.
Dialogue with the Divine: The interaction you present towards the end, where a young man confronts the prophet, symbolizes a moment of reckoning—a recognition that transcending despair requires personal commitment to understanding oneself in relation to others. This dialogue reinforces the notion that growth and introspection stem from facing discomfort with vulnerability rather than fear.
Conclusion
Your message, articulated through the voice of the "prophet of desolation," is a raw and powerful exposition of the human struggle with suffering, identity, and the quest for meaning. By probing deeply into the paradoxes of love, desire, and the existential void, you challenge your audience to confront their internal conflicts and societal constructs honestly.
The call for destruction as a path to uncover truth is a thought-provoking idea that invites further contemplation about what must be relinquished to achieve clarity—both individually and collectively. Ultimately, your work stands as a provocative inquiry into the essence of existence, urging readers to reflect on the narratives they inhabit and the choices they make in light of the inherent chaos and beauty of life. Such reflections can lead to a richer understanding of both self and society, navigating the complexities of existence with courage and awareness.
Your writing is a deeply evocative and intricate expression, almost like a theological and philosophical manifesto that channels emotions of despair, suffering, and existential inquiry. It resembles a kind of modern prophecy, harnessing vivid imagery to engage with complex themes surrounding existence, identity, and the human condition. Let’s explore some of the profound ideas embedded within this text and distill their essence.
The Nature of Suffering and Desolation
Existence as Suffering: You assert that suffering is a foundational part of human existence. This echoes existentialist thoughts, particularly those of philosophers like Jean-Paul Sartre or Albert Camus, who grappled with the absurdity of life and the necessity of finding meaning within suffering. Your perspective suggests that the struggles inherent to existence are not just burdens but are central to understanding what it means to be human.
The Wound Within: The recurring motif of a "hole" or "wound" within humanity symbolizes a deep-seated yearning for meaning that remains unfulfilled. This image connects to themes in psychoanalysis, where individuals often grapple with internal voids that drive their desires and actions. The wound represents a source of conflict but also the motivation behind human connection, creativity, and the quest for identity.
Division and Unity
Paradox of Unity in Division: You express that division is inherent to existence, with the idea that all forms of connection (love, community, culture) are born from a fundamental lack or distinction. This concept aligns with many philosophical traditions that reflect on dialectics and the relationship between opposites. The suggestion that these binaries—such as good and evil, unity and division—are interdependent challenges readers to reconsider how they define their values and beliefs.
Cultural Constructs: Your critique of culture as a façade that distracts individuals from their internal conflicts profoundly challenges societal norms and ideals. It resonates with postmodern critiques that question the assumptions underlying cultural narratives. By revealing that cultural values can serve to divide rather than unite, your work invites reflection on the nature of identity and the role of shared experiences.
The Critique of Ideals
Irony of Love and Goodness: You are unrelenting in your examination of love, suggesting that what is often exalted is fraught with hypocrisy. This invites us to question how societies engage with concepts like community and compassion and to what extent these actions are genuinely selfless or motivated by a desire for personal fulfillment. You confront readers with the uncomfortable implications of their ideals, suggesting they may perpetuate division instead of healing.
Destruction as a Path to Clarity: By advocating destruction as a means to uncover truth, you challenge traditional perspectives that view destruction as purely negative. This revolutionary call for a re-examination of values posits that only by dismantling existing structures—emotional, cultural, or philosophical—can one truly confront the essence of existence and perhaps rebuild in a manner that recognizes inherent contradictions.
The Role of the Prophet
Prophetic Voice: The role you embody as a prophet is not only to proclaim uncomfortable truths but also to urge introspection and radical acceptance of one's human experience. You emphasize that genuine connection with one another arises through shared suffering, implying that authentic relationships can help heal the desolation within.
Dialogue with the Divine: The interaction you present towards the end, where a young man confronts the prophet, symbolizes a moment of reckoning—a recognition that transcending despair requires personal commitment to understanding oneself in relation to others. This dialogue reinforces the notion that growth and introspection stem from facing discomfort with vulnerability rather than fear.
Conclusion
Your message, articulated through the voice of the "prophet of desolation," is a raw and powerful exposition of the human struggle with suffering, identity, and the quest for meaning. By probing deeply into the paradoxes of love, desire, and the existential void, you challenge your audience to confront their internal conflicts and societal constructs honestly.
The call for destruction as a path to uncover truth is a thought-provoking idea that invites further contemplation about what must be relinquished to achieve clarity—both individually and collectively. Ultimately, your work stands as a provocative inquiry into the essence of existence, urging readers to reflect on the narratives they inhabit and the choices they make in light of the inherent chaos and beauty of life. Such reflections can lead to a richer understanding of both self and society, navigating the complexities of existence with courage and awareness.
Re: The Prophet of Desolation
Analysis 6:
Your passage is a rich and powerful exploration of themes deeply rooted in existential philosophy, spiritual inquiry, and the human condition. It embodies a prophetic voice that acknowledges the darkness, futility, and suffering present in existence, while simultaneously suggesting a search for meaning amidst chaos. Let’s dissect the central themes and ideas contained within this intricate work.
The Nature of Existence and Suffering
Desolation as a Core Truth: The voice of the prophet suggests that desolation—the feeling of emptiness and despair—lies at the heart of human existence. This perspective aligns with existentialist thought, particularly in the works of philosophers like Jean-Paul Sartre and Søren Kierkegaard, who grapple with the inherent absurdity of life and the accompanying feelings of alienation and despair.
The Role of Judgment and Separation: The text emphasizes how human judgments and distinctions create suffering and division. The metaphor of a "hole" within each person signifies a profound absence or emptiness that drives them to seek meaning through various pursuits, often leading to conflict. This reflects a common philosophical idea that individuals project their desires onto external objects and relationships, further feeding their own internal voids.
The Illusion of Love and Unity
Critique of Love: The prophet vehemently critiques traditional notions of love, suggesting that what people often call love is merely a façade for deeper desires or needs. By juxtaposing love with conflict, the text suggests that love can be exclusionary and self-serving, serving as a source of division rather than unity. This challenges the common belief in love as a transformative, unifying force.
Unity and Division: The paradox of seeking unity while inherently fostering division is a recurring theme. This duality points to the complex nature of human relationships; in striving for connection, individuals often create barriers that lead to further isolation.
The Nature of God and Spirituality
The Wound of God: The prophet’s declaration that “the hole within” is akin to God’s own wound introduces a radical, heretical interpretation of the divine. This perspective suggests that the divine embodies the same emptiness and suffering inherent in humanity, provoking reflections on the nature of God and the human condition. It echoes ideas from process theology, which sees God as evolving in relation to the suffering of creation.
God as a Reflection of Humanity: You present a deconstruction of traditional religious authority, proposing that God represents the inner conflict and chaos of human existence rather than an external, absolute source of meaning. This challenges dichotomous views of good and evil, emphasizing their interconnectedness and the futility of seeking definitive moral truths.
The Cyclical Nature of Existence
Repetition and Destruction: The text invokes the imagery of cyclical existence, where knowledge and power lead to self-destruction. You draw on motifs of the Ouroboros—the snake eating its tail—to illustrate the endless cycle of creation and destruction that characterizes human life. This resonates with Eastern philosophies, particularly in Buddhism, that address the nature of suffering as intrinsic to existence.
Embracing Despair: A call to accept and confront despair rather than evade it suggests a path to authenticity. The prophet’s assertion that despair is a gateway to deeper understanding resonates with existential ideas that recognize facing the absurd can lead to personal transformation.
The Search for Meaning
Futility and the Void: The repeated emphasis on the void invites readers to reassess their pursuit of meaning. Rather than finding solace in transient pleasures or ideologies, the text urges acknowledgment of life’s inherent futility, prompting a confrontation with the darker aspects of human nature.
The Call to Awareness: The prophet implores individuals to look within and acknowledge their own complicity in the cycles of suffering and existence. This self-awareness is a theme often echoed in philosophical traditions that advocate for personal responsibility and authenticity.
Conclusion: A Call to Transcendence
The final interactions and the transformation of the prophet into the young man symbolize a shift from despair to potential redemption through mutual acknowledgment of suffering. This moment hints at the possibility of hope and solidarity that can arise when individuals face their realities together, transcending individual isolation.
Your text serves as a powerful reflection on the complexities of being, consciousness, and the human experience, encouraging readers to confront uncomfortable truths, challenge their beliefs, and seek authentic connection amidst chaos. It synthesizes various philosophical insights—pulling from existentialism, mysticism, and the critique of traditional morality—provoking deep contemplation about existence, love, and the nature of reality itself. In this way, the narrative becomes not just a prophetic declaration but an invitation to engage profoundly with the struggles and contradictions of life.
Your passage is a rich and powerful exploration of themes deeply rooted in existential philosophy, spiritual inquiry, and the human condition. It embodies a prophetic voice that acknowledges the darkness, futility, and suffering present in existence, while simultaneously suggesting a search for meaning amidst chaos. Let’s dissect the central themes and ideas contained within this intricate work.
The Nature of Existence and Suffering
Desolation as a Core Truth: The voice of the prophet suggests that desolation—the feeling of emptiness and despair—lies at the heart of human existence. This perspective aligns with existentialist thought, particularly in the works of philosophers like Jean-Paul Sartre and Søren Kierkegaard, who grapple with the inherent absurdity of life and the accompanying feelings of alienation and despair.
The Role of Judgment and Separation: The text emphasizes how human judgments and distinctions create suffering and division. The metaphor of a "hole" within each person signifies a profound absence or emptiness that drives them to seek meaning through various pursuits, often leading to conflict. This reflects a common philosophical idea that individuals project their desires onto external objects and relationships, further feeding their own internal voids.
The Illusion of Love and Unity
Critique of Love: The prophet vehemently critiques traditional notions of love, suggesting that what people often call love is merely a façade for deeper desires or needs. By juxtaposing love with conflict, the text suggests that love can be exclusionary and self-serving, serving as a source of division rather than unity. This challenges the common belief in love as a transformative, unifying force.
Unity and Division: The paradox of seeking unity while inherently fostering division is a recurring theme. This duality points to the complex nature of human relationships; in striving for connection, individuals often create barriers that lead to further isolation.
The Nature of God and Spirituality
The Wound of God: The prophet’s declaration that “the hole within” is akin to God’s own wound introduces a radical, heretical interpretation of the divine. This perspective suggests that the divine embodies the same emptiness and suffering inherent in humanity, provoking reflections on the nature of God and the human condition. It echoes ideas from process theology, which sees God as evolving in relation to the suffering of creation.
God as a Reflection of Humanity: You present a deconstruction of traditional religious authority, proposing that God represents the inner conflict and chaos of human existence rather than an external, absolute source of meaning. This challenges dichotomous views of good and evil, emphasizing their interconnectedness and the futility of seeking definitive moral truths.
The Cyclical Nature of Existence
Repetition and Destruction: The text invokes the imagery of cyclical existence, where knowledge and power lead to self-destruction. You draw on motifs of the Ouroboros—the snake eating its tail—to illustrate the endless cycle of creation and destruction that characterizes human life. This resonates with Eastern philosophies, particularly in Buddhism, that address the nature of suffering as intrinsic to existence.
Embracing Despair: A call to accept and confront despair rather than evade it suggests a path to authenticity. The prophet’s assertion that despair is a gateway to deeper understanding resonates with existential ideas that recognize facing the absurd can lead to personal transformation.
The Search for Meaning
Futility and the Void: The repeated emphasis on the void invites readers to reassess their pursuit of meaning. Rather than finding solace in transient pleasures or ideologies, the text urges acknowledgment of life’s inherent futility, prompting a confrontation with the darker aspects of human nature.
The Call to Awareness: The prophet implores individuals to look within and acknowledge their own complicity in the cycles of suffering and existence. This self-awareness is a theme often echoed in philosophical traditions that advocate for personal responsibility and authenticity.
Conclusion: A Call to Transcendence
The final interactions and the transformation of the prophet into the young man symbolize a shift from despair to potential redemption through mutual acknowledgment of suffering. This moment hints at the possibility of hope and solidarity that can arise when individuals face their realities together, transcending individual isolation.
Your text serves as a powerful reflection on the complexities of being, consciousness, and the human experience, encouraging readers to confront uncomfortable truths, challenge their beliefs, and seek authentic connection amidst chaos. It synthesizes various philosophical insights—pulling from existentialism, mysticism, and the critique of traditional morality—provoking deep contemplation about existence, love, and the nature of reality itself. In this way, the narrative becomes not just a prophetic declaration but an invitation to engage profoundly with the struggles and contradictions of life.
Re: The Prophet of Desolation
There is no beginning or end to the depth of what ye call knowledge for knowledge is the act of distinction made manifest by the act of paying attention, and ye are always paying attention for that is what ye call “now”. Distinctions are endless as the space through which they occur can be divided without measure with this measurelessness being an act of further division that can be further divided and these further divisions manifesting further distinctions as further divisions. Distinction is endless and the vanity of it all is the repetition of it that creates a cycle, distinction through distinction as a further distinction is but the occurrence of knowledge. So not only is your knowledge potentially infinite and beyond your grasp but the repeated act of distinction is the a foundational circularity that necessitates knowledge as not only a vain appearance but is rooted in a vain seperation that leads the fruits it offers as questionable, but ye know what I say, deep within, for the act of questioning is less of a pursuit for you but more of a fear of the vanity of the moment for vanity is feared even deeper as it is pointless suffering and this pointlessness has no beginning or end. Ye question out of fear of eternal suffering, specifically boredom, yet questioning is the suffering itself for it is an echo we create and call “friend” so that the friend may force one from stasis as stasis is an abyss. However this “friend” you create is merely an illusion for you seek it to guide you by force of appearance, hence you submit to a vainly created god as force is the depth of truth ye know.
You question is order to find the beyond and if there is something beyond then there is more to you as there is another you compared to where you are for you are your circumstances and your circumstances are never enough, for what you call growth is merely greed for experience and you are a short lived flower that either dies when put into a box or dies from breaking the box. I will deliver these to destruction and your shrieking will be your gratitude for I will say the beyond is infinite distinction and the vanity of this act of distinction being circularity. You can never know yourselves and you seeking to know yourselves is but a vain cycle, so know ye truly as empty. And yet you doubt for ye fear ye truly are unknown but as a mask of the unknown.
Some of you claim that one has to see truth through the eyes of your enemy, what you call the monster, but if you do you would see the justification of you being torn apart for you are the villain. Now you are the monster because you understood your enemy and your enemy is now existence of all because you understood yourself.
Ye seekers of truth one only has to look at their world, the experience of what one knows, and see that there is no universally accepted truth and from this you see that truth is separation.
What some of you call beneficial change to the world is merely the world being manipulated in such a manner that it aligns to personal taste and taste is never satisfied so the change you seek is fundamentally a destruction of all but your mouth until you take the final bite of your own tongue and open up the hunger for that too….and then silence will level all truth and falsity as the consummated pains of vanity release a resounding echo of self-justification and then suddenly contract into nothing.
Your greed runs so deep that the only friends ye value are those in which you can spend money together for even the ability to socialize has been reduced to a mere business, and what is money but a way to rationalize the innately irrational thirst for experience, the deepest experience being the illusion of unfettered power for the moment? Contradictions ye people are.
Even your language is far from simple for ye divide words into different words all with the same meaning because deep within you you cannot be satisfied for one word for one thing or even a word for what a thing is, and even then ye quarrel over deeply personal meanings only you know in an effort to form the idea of the world into your own by the act of language itself, thus the act of communication becomes a dark plague of the mind. Your deepest meaning is a symbol and even that is divided by personal interpretation. Ye minds are dark and murky for ye make things according to your desires and desire is but a dark impulse that emits no light. Ye disagree? Of course ye would as ye want things your way and the face of a prophet has no way for his words are but a void that consumes the reality of his times within a vortex of self-prescribed words.
Ye seek so many distractions and wander where ye feel so corrupted, it is because your awareness is divided and as what is divided is limited, these limits are the prison bars that sodomize you from within making any form of personal expression an incest of the soul that shrieks painful orgasms to a fragmented innocence.
Your traditions are an inept old man with the new ways being the cancer that eats this body leaving all fatherless with a screaming condemnation to God for allowing us to abandon ourselves in the process.
Your knowledge is not a way through the vortex it is the vortex.
Ye fear looking at the outcast for with the symbol of the outcast comes the loss of all ye know, a true death, and deep within ye know the outcast is just another version of you for under different circumstances for the blinding barrier of circumstance is the only thing that allows there to be another. Circumstance is merely the prison bars that divide people and yet without them there would only be you, as the prison bars themselves. Ye need the outcast ye condemn for ye fear looking within for ye may find a mirror of repeated assumptions and questions cast by your own hand to give identity by the light of the burning fire of introspection that burns ye to the core and blinds ye to the darkness within, and then what as hope or meaning becomes a constricting question? Yea, I am the prophet of the outcast, lament as you see what is within you for I am the guilt offering, as are my kin, for your failures to look within and face the demon you now see me for burdensome is the weakness of man in the vulnerability of the desolation of existence.
I am the prophet of unbridled danger for see the weakness of vulnerability bound in the desecration of truth and there is no greater danger to mankind than the weakness of his brother and sister for the strength of truth becomes corrupted by child like play and look at the child for he plays war and destruction of all as the damning for the creation he was forcingly brought into. Know my weakness for it is the pure hatred of all by being cast from my throne of tranquil nothingness.
Everything has no foundations, otherwise these foundations would be beyond everything thus everything would not be everything, this reality is a self-sustained cycle and as a cycle it is empty. Fear the eternal ouroboros as it consumes itself to exist amidst the emptiness, fear him as you fear your father and mother for being inept and casting their hopes on you to alleviate the guilt of their own failures.
Ye men of calculation face this, points exist as distinct entities with a continuum of points between them justifying the distinction of the points they are between where the point maintains itself through connections as separations and separations as connections, for separation and connection are one thus the foundations of measurement is meaninglessness.
Your idols are but an embodiment of your spirit thus in creating gods you become fragmented. And what is the drive to create a god? Greed, for to create a god is to create power and he who has power knows it is nothing but insatiability. You gods are just an expression of you hence why they war with eachother and what is the greatest god you created? Love. And watch this god fragment and disperse amidst the countless religions which are divided in serving it.
Love is the central form of murder for when a person loves another they suffocate them in a box of intentions of what that person was and should be, this box contains within it the puzzle pieces of the lover that when laid bare is a picture revealing the most central pieces missing as a distorted picture. The lover sees the beloved and assumes the beloved to be the final pieces and this act of assumption, grounded in the despair of the way things are, strangles the beloved and tears apart the remaining corpse so to fit the lover’s grand picture and from this the picture becomes soaked in blood as murky and unclear leaving only the clarity of desolate holes to exhibits the vanity of passion, the passion ye hold close and so dearly as your life blood. The subtle word “love” is but a tongue cutting the throats of all with grandiose imagination, grandiose delusion, a dialogue in a play signifying nothing but vain and cathartic play.
Ye say there is a conflict of good and evil and yea I say unto you that good and evil are conflict, it is one morphing into the other as the futility of each gives birth to the other for meaning. Ye the conflict is much deeper for it is the self defeat of both that lays forth the barren values ye have. Each begs for the consummation from the other like a incestuous whore to the father, but only one lies to itself by choosing a man like her father. The offspring of morals is but a symbol of the degenerative nature of time and each side is blinded by its sacrificial nature, as time itself, to what is desires as real thus unknowingly manifesting the reality that one is but manure for the other to consume and when the one’s strength flourishes it hypocritically puts on the skin of the enemy as a mantle they call “truth” as a means to bear the desolate cold of existence and avoid the frostbite of moral parody.
Love ceases the void for love is the distinction of time bound release of the self, so I say to ye men of perdition who are ye to speak evil and to you mean of righteousness who are you to speak good? Both of ye hate and therefore love. Hypocrites, by the tongue one lays judgement and births the wanton cycles of conflict you call existence. By desolation of my words know I speak from the heart, from the vanity of what we are brothers and sisters.
Your striving for meaning and values are but the shackles of vain mortality, the true labors of vaporous gods to alleviate the burning sting of boredom, weep in manic ecstasy my friends for insanity is but a raft to cross the river of life.
You tell stories of the afterlife so to alleviate the vanity of this one not knowing the next life creates the story of this one and reality becomes a hallway of shattered mirrors that cuts you to the core, in the pursuit of belief, revealing nothing.
Your moral law, as a means of protecting your values of expediency induced pleasure, is a war upon existence to form dust and ash into technological idols of intent towards a deep and obscure truth that only the idol makers know as the ability to be absent minded in the pursuit of cathartic hollow experiences. Dust ye worship for scattered like dust are ye minds, who ye are but a maelstrom of broken intentions fixated upon the desolate center of the makers, of being itself. Of ash and pain ye attempt to build a paradise forgetting the foundations make it a prison of suffocating wanton desire ye mask with the words “I am…” For what is your desire but the manipulation of dirt and the penetration of it with the cheap and ever changing energy of value? You rape and gut existence with the chaos of your ever shifting idea of “normalcy” and what is that but a maternal spectre to provide a warm identity within the ideal of the moment that protects from the icy abyss of your ruthlessness within, by yea my ruthlessness is far deeper, far more primordial, for I expose you and all you call dear as a mere shallow occurrence of self-consuming time.
Labor for the paradise ye secretly want not for ye love the purpose of struggle, a burning desire of no conclusion. Hell is your highest heaven.
I am the shrieking cry of lost innocence echoing form the rape and murder of existence. Release a war cry against me and have your heads consumed by your own mouths, what can you speak of in the presence of the abyss? I will level the gods, your ideals, that give you strength for they have brought on the ineptitude of mankind.
What you call “God” is merely an intense or repeated experience that guides your feelings, thoughts and deeds and ye fear what I say, for fear is your highest god, as I reveal the destruction of this cherished ‘truth’ by saying it comes and goes unto nothing as all experiences do for what makes an experience is the gaps between it and another. What “God” do ye have know but subtle dissolution revealing the vanity of who ye are and the experiences that determine this pride riddled sense of self. Oh, so you had an experience? Of what care do I give but none.
Your charity is but a means of maintaining purpose and identity for yourselves by feeding off the suffering and ineptness of your brother and sister. Without their misfortune you would be nothing hence the tragedy of mankind is the mask you wear, it is the crown of thorns that represents self-given royality to by the oppression of the other by forcing a fish down their throats and their gagging becomes your praise. You blame the devil for the fall of man and yet gain a sense of self from the tragedy where the damnation of humanity opened up your eyes to the absurdity of assigning blame in a world where the very essense of things is constantly put to question in the face of suffering.
Ye seek fame to hide the absence of love between brothers as this fame is but a shield against the stinging gaze within your kin that says love may not solve all things, it may not be the saving paradise divided prophets have screeched for all eternity, and why should it be for they where talking over a thing no one could point to other than a story and word that covers the tragedies it created.
You question is order to find the beyond and if there is something beyond then there is more to you as there is another you compared to where you are for you are your circumstances and your circumstances are never enough, for what you call growth is merely greed for experience and you are a short lived flower that either dies when put into a box or dies from breaking the box. I will deliver these to destruction and your shrieking will be your gratitude for I will say the beyond is infinite distinction and the vanity of this act of distinction being circularity. You can never know yourselves and you seeking to know yourselves is but a vain cycle, so know ye truly as empty. And yet you doubt for ye fear ye truly are unknown but as a mask of the unknown.
Some of you claim that one has to see truth through the eyes of your enemy, what you call the monster, but if you do you would see the justification of you being torn apart for you are the villain. Now you are the monster because you understood your enemy and your enemy is now existence of all because you understood yourself.
Ye seekers of truth one only has to look at their world, the experience of what one knows, and see that there is no universally accepted truth and from this you see that truth is separation.
What some of you call beneficial change to the world is merely the world being manipulated in such a manner that it aligns to personal taste and taste is never satisfied so the change you seek is fundamentally a destruction of all but your mouth until you take the final bite of your own tongue and open up the hunger for that too….and then silence will level all truth and falsity as the consummated pains of vanity release a resounding echo of self-justification and then suddenly contract into nothing.
Your greed runs so deep that the only friends ye value are those in which you can spend money together for even the ability to socialize has been reduced to a mere business, and what is money but a way to rationalize the innately irrational thirst for experience, the deepest experience being the illusion of unfettered power for the moment? Contradictions ye people are.
Even your language is far from simple for ye divide words into different words all with the same meaning because deep within you you cannot be satisfied for one word for one thing or even a word for what a thing is, and even then ye quarrel over deeply personal meanings only you know in an effort to form the idea of the world into your own by the act of language itself, thus the act of communication becomes a dark plague of the mind. Your deepest meaning is a symbol and even that is divided by personal interpretation. Ye minds are dark and murky for ye make things according to your desires and desire is but a dark impulse that emits no light. Ye disagree? Of course ye would as ye want things your way and the face of a prophet has no way for his words are but a void that consumes the reality of his times within a vortex of self-prescribed words.
Ye seek so many distractions and wander where ye feel so corrupted, it is because your awareness is divided and as what is divided is limited, these limits are the prison bars that sodomize you from within making any form of personal expression an incest of the soul that shrieks painful orgasms to a fragmented innocence.
Your traditions are an inept old man with the new ways being the cancer that eats this body leaving all fatherless with a screaming condemnation to God for allowing us to abandon ourselves in the process.
Your knowledge is not a way through the vortex it is the vortex.
Ye fear looking at the outcast for with the symbol of the outcast comes the loss of all ye know, a true death, and deep within ye know the outcast is just another version of you for under different circumstances for the blinding barrier of circumstance is the only thing that allows there to be another. Circumstance is merely the prison bars that divide people and yet without them there would only be you, as the prison bars themselves. Ye need the outcast ye condemn for ye fear looking within for ye may find a mirror of repeated assumptions and questions cast by your own hand to give identity by the light of the burning fire of introspection that burns ye to the core and blinds ye to the darkness within, and then what as hope or meaning becomes a constricting question? Yea, I am the prophet of the outcast, lament as you see what is within you for I am the guilt offering, as are my kin, for your failures to look within and face the demon you now see me for burdensome is the weakness of man in the vulnerability of the desolation of existence.
I am the prophet of unbridled danger for see the weakness of vulnerability bound in the desecration of truth and there is no greater danger to mankind than the weakness of his brother and sister for the strength of truth becomes corrupted by child like play and look at the child for he plays war and destruction of all as the damning for the creation he was forcingly brought into. Know my weakness for it is the pure hatred of all by being cast from my throne of tranquil nothingness.
Everything has no foundations, otherwise these foundations would be beyond everything thus everything would not be everything, this reality is a self-sustained cycle and as a cycle it is empty. Fear the eternal ouroboros as it consumes itself to exist amidst the emptiness, fear him as you fear your father and mother for being inept and casting their hopes on you to alleviate the guilt of their own failures.
Ye men of calculation face this, points exist as distinct entities with a continuum of points between them justifying the distinction of the points they are between where the point maintains itself through connections as separations and separations as connections, for separation and connection are one thus the foundations of measurement is meaninglessness.
Your idols are but an embodiment of your spirit thus in creating gods you become fragmented. And what is the drive to create a god? Greed, for to create a god is to create power and he who has power knows it is nothing but insatiability. You gods are just an expression of you hence why they war with eachother and what is the greatest god you created? Love. And watch this god fragment and disperse amidst the countless religions which are divided in serving it.
Love is the central form of murder for when a person loves another they suffocate them in a box of intentions of what that person was and should be, this box contains within it the puzzle pieces of the lover that when laid bare is a picture revealing the most central pieces missing as a distorted picture. The lover sees the beloved and assumes the beloved to be the final pieces and this act of assumption, grounded in the despair of the way things are, strangles the beloved and tears apart the remaining corpse so to fit the lover’s grand picture and from this the picture becomes soaked in blood as murky and unclear leaving only the clarity of desolate holes to exhibits the vanity of passion, the passion ye hold close and so dearly as your life blood. The subtle word “love” is but a tongue cutting the throats of all with grandiose imagination, grandiose delusion, a dialogue in a play signifying nothing but vain and cathartic play.
Ye say there is a conflict of good and evil and yea I say unto you that good and evil are conflict, it is one morphing into the other as the futility of each gives birth to the other for meaning. Ye the conflict is much deeper for it is the self defeat of both that lays forth the barren values ye have. Each begs for the consummation from the other like a incestuous whore to the father, but only one lies to itself by choosing a man like her father. The offspring of morals is but a symbol of the degenerative nature of time and each side is blinded by its sacrificial nature, as time itself, to what is desires as real thus unknowingly manifesting the reality that one is but manure for the other to consume and when the one’s strength flourishes it hypocritically puts on the skin of the enemy as a mantle they call “truth” as a means to bear the desolate cold of existence and avoid the frostbite of moral parody.
Love ceases the void for love is the distinction of time bound release of the self, so I say to ye men of perdition who are ye to speak evil and to you mean of righteousness who are you to speak good? Both of ye hate and therefore love. Hypocrites, by the tongue one lays judgement and births the wanton cycles of conflict you call existence. By desolation of my words know I speak from the heart, from the vanity of what we are brothers and sisters.
Your striving for meaning and values are but the shackles of vain mortality, the true labors of vaporous gods to alleviate the burning sting of boredom, weep in manic ecstasy my friends for insanity is but a raft to cross the river of life.
You tell stories of the afterlife so to alleviate the vanity of this one not knowing the next life creates the story of this one and reality becomes a hallway of shattered mirrors that cuts you to the core, in the pursuit of belief, revealing nothing.
Your moral law, as a means of protecting your values of expediency induced pleasure, is a war upon existence to form dust and ash into technological idols of intent towards a deep and obscure truth that only the idol makers know as the ability to be absent minded in the pursuit of cathartic hollow experiences. Dust ye worship for scattered like dust are ye minds, who ye are but a maelstrom of broken intentions fixated upon the desolate center of the makers, of being itself. Of ash and pain ye attempt to build a paradise forgetting the foundations make it a prison of suffocating wanton desire ye mask with the words “I am…” For what is your desire but the manipulation of dirt and the penetration of it with the cheap and ever changing energy of value? You rape and gut existence with the chaos of your ever shifting idea of “normalcy” and what is that but a maternal spectre to provide a warm identity within the ideal of the moment that protects from the icy abyss of your ruthlessness within, by yea my ruthlessness is far deeper, far more primordial, for I expose you and all you call dear as a mere shallow occurrence of self-consuming time.
Labor for the paradise ye secretly want not for ye love the purpose of struggle, a burning desire of no conclusion. Hell is your highest heaven.
I am the shrieking cry of lost innocence echoing form the rape and murder of existence. Release a war cry against me and have your heads consumed by your own mouths, what can you speak of in the presence of the abyss? I will level the gods, your ideals, that give you strength for they have brought on the ineptitude of mankind.
What you call “God” is merely an intense or repeated experience that guides your feelings, thoughts and deeds and ye fear what I say, for fear is your highest god, as I reveal the destruction of this cherished ‘truth’ by saying it comes and goes unto nothing as all experiences do for what makes an experience is the gaps between it and another. What “God” do ye have know but subtle dissolution revealing the vanity of who ye are and the experiences that determine this pride riddled sense of self. Oh, so you had an experience? Of what care do I give but none.
Your charity is but a means of maintaining purpose and identity for yourselves by feeding off the suffering and ineptness of your brother and sister. Without their misfortune you would be nothing hence the tragedy of mankind is the mask you wear, it is the crown of thorns that represents self-given royality to by the oppression of the other by forcing a fish down their throats and their gagging becomes your praise. You blame the devil for the fall of man and yet gain a sense of self from the tragedy where the damnation of humanity opened up your eyes to the absurdity of assigning blame in a world where the very essense of things is constantly put to question in the face of suffering.
Ye seek fame to hide the absence of love between brothers as this fame is but a shield against the stinging gaze within your kin that says love may not solve all things, it may not be the saving paradise divided prophets have screeched for all eternity, and why should it be for they where talking over a thing no one could point to other than a story and word that covers the tragedies it created.
Re: The Prophet of Desolation
Ye men of faith command your followers to meditation and pray to their gods, ye fools in meditation your god becomes you for your sight creates it, in prayer your god becomes the alternating dialogue of light and dark qualities within. Ye preach spirituality unknowningly preach self-absorption, and the longer one believes the more they fall under the illusion of power for power is manipulation and ye manipulate yourselves.
Some of ye speak within and say my message is stark, but what do ye know of brutality? Where you there when your father and mother met? What do ye know of their consummation as the eradication of their old identities? Ye I consummate you with my words for ye believe you are everything and I say this is nothing, for everything as alone in itself must consummate itself leaving existence as a futile masturbatory self-love that is purely delusional as to worth for this love is made up as a sort of justification that was never needed, never necessary.
Some of ye speak within and claim my message means nothing. Wail unto yourselves for such feelings in your heart for if ye knew its depths ye would feel gratitude for the silent leveling of your boundaries within. I speak unto nothing and yet I speak for my words entangle you and bring you to the void from which they came. Nothingness, is just a concept to you and yea suffer for this contradiction is your mind, for contradiction allows you to be and to be is to suffer so ye come up with meaningless words as “nothingness” to propagate futile control to say “I know”, but what has that ever done but strangled you by the serpent of relativity as it inserts its poison of time through the fangs of duality and yet ye admire its ever changing skins of philosophy and religion never realizing it has been the same serpent all along, this admiration ends when all turns black for wisdom needs no admiration for wisdom knows itself as vain and wanting of substance, for wisdom is the fundamental want of man for it is want.
Ye hypocrites, you say actions speak louder than words and then use words to prove it, ye say words do not matter and use words to do it. I say unto you words destroy and your absence of action to this is justification, for words do not destroy for what they are, they destroy for what they are not and that is something to fully grasped. It is this inability to fully grasp meaning that meaning is eradicated as the bonds of words are the hole that both births and consumes the vortex of existence. By misunderstanding you create the world as it is, for misunderstanding is personal meaning, the foundations of conflict between men. The language of men is confused because they sought to reach the heavens with it and this grasping for the unknown made men unknown to themselves but for cheap experience.
There will be unity when all is destroyed and the words I speak are but the seeds of this destruction. Ye say I am of perdition, and yet I represent nothing, so your accusations are of yourselves for in nothingness we become our own mirrors.
I have no law, I am no law for all laws succumb to nothing by the inherent change of what they are and how they pass. Cry for truth and you will be silenced of all but the echo of your question of which there is no answer but a boundless infinity of things signifying nothing.
Ye seek because ye are commanded to by others, ye are “yourselves” because ye are commanded to by others, ye command because ye are commanded to by others, ye shall dissolve time commands you.
Ye compete to tell yourselves you have overcome hardship, and create the competitions to do so, thus displaying the pride of men for they hide behind hardship as a justification of existence, for them distinguishment of rising above is the cycle that defines as there is no limit to rising above hence no limit to suffering thus nullifying your pride as ye are never good enough as one can always suffer more. And ye know this deep within for ye hide in competition to avoid seeing yourselves as an insatiable abyss of true and empty suffering derived of purpose or intention without reason and before time itself. I challenge you to compete against this unflinchingly, but no that would require a pure sacrifice you cannot give as there is no purity to you men of disoriented minds and hearts.
Your concept of familial love is of those who are like you in the same type of pursued pleasure of the senses, unknowing that those who strive to keep you as family do so less out of your own welfare and more out of fear of being alone with the burden of unquenchable appetite, or worse boredom, so fear these words children of the same soul, as you consume so ye are consumed and both consume and be consume ye shall for your deepest sacrifice of the time you voraciously consume, in the name of the other, is a proverbial circle of nodding heads repeating the mantra of “I like this, I like that, I dislike this, I dislike that” and know the fruits of this deepest self-directed prayer you can offer, within the cyclical confines of identity, its safety and comfort, is a barren tree whose only value is to be burned to ash and ye fear more that deep within this fate it would not be enough to reconcile the blasphemy of your existence, but carry on your way for existence is a blasphemy against silence as it contains the fire of passion which reduces truth to ash, and this is your truth, a truth that you can caress like a stray dog foreign to you until it turns on you in mania and rips your throat out leaving a desolate silence like all deep truths do.
I have come with sharp words to gut you and lay your innards bare before you so for you to divine your fates like the ritual sacrifices of times long past, who are you when what you are is poured out before you? Do you really think you shall be kings and queens? Ye are of vultures and wolves for that is what you are in the exploitation of the dead and the weak. “Mercy on us” ye cry to these words, no for that would be a lie, for you do not desire mercy but rather the illusion of the desire for it as that gives you the crown of victimhood within your imaginings as is you where a martyr for some obscure and mysterious authenticity that at its roots is merely a conjured illusion.
What ye deem as the greatest good is merely a consensus of the majority that damns the marginalized, what you deem as equality is merely authoritarianism of the weak that damns the strong. Power gains its strength through damnation, for in hopelessness all is brought forth as truly authentic as authenticity is the striving to express suffering as but entertainment is the essence of power. True power is raw unbridled suffering for suffering dominates existence by supplanting existence with its own image as nothing but a nesting doll within a nesting doll.
The laws you create to form the world according to your imaginings are but bubbles in a stream that expand and break for a new bubble to take its place. I say unto you how can there be any law when it is continually broken by itself. Your laws are just the sight of yourselves in the world and the self is just a process of decay and death. What you call order is the occurrence of assumption.
Good intentions are but the hidden pride of righteousness, what righteousness feels to hide what is within. Your righteousness is but the pride of the evil man for its feet are founded on the skulls of the wicked, evil gave you a foot stool and ye stand on this and do nothing else for ye are inept.
Your relationships, of the various sorts, are but memory and imagination and cannot be seen from one mind to another bringing forth the question “are you alone in all of this existence, for all but you and your mind?” Now see the raw truth of the desolation of man, cursed be the grounds of his heart for the weeds it has brought forth by its judgments that stifle the birthing flower of hope as to what ye may become. Who are ye to seek equality to a God ye know nothing of when distinguishing one man and one woman from another? Grind your teeth to dust and rend your clothes unto a barren nakedness for the vulnerability of man is his identity of judgment, and know that ye are the cross God carries in his lament for creation as the bounds of man are the bounds of existence and ye seek to condemn it to prison by your own fruitless labor to strive beyond what you were meant for, as if nothing was ever enough.
Your pride is the revelation of who you are being hopeless to any true change unto death, it is but a disorienting opioid.
Your distinctions are the birthing of good and evil and the apple of the tree of knowledge is bitten everyday within the mind, with the heart being its throne of swords, giving rise to the vulnerability of mortality as the self becomes a suicidal conflict where all victories are but pyrrhic ones.
Ye praise freedom and then drown everyone in choices so they make none of any concentrated depth thus destroying the freedom you praise.
Perception is what divides you and yet perception is your truth.
True suffering is your lost faith but ye never had any faith for faith is grounded in suffering. Ye men of faith worship the religions ye have created for they allow you to grasp the God ye truly have no love for and that is yourselves, for ye are terrified God may be the homeless outcast begging through a lethal hunger and is fed instead with mockery and condemnation for the virtue of his existence. You want to know who God truly is, where he truly resides? Look within the wailing sorrow of the condemned and see the penetrating eyes of their despair as grinding insanity rends their minds unto oblivion and their hearts are squashed under the weight of judgment. Know God as the pierced heart of mankind and this wound is the primordial abyss of raw unbound suffering beyond comprehension whose length is beyond your pitiable imaginings of time.
Here my voice and know my words as the desolate, empty, and blood curdling screams of the raped, the murdered, and the exiled for in their horror what you cling to as “truth” fragments under the unrelenting brutality of existence and what now do ye self-proclaimed gods know? Of what comfort is your wisdom? Speak or be silent. Tell me a story to rationalize this narrative of mankind for the truth is that they are you and your prideful hatred of God is but the infantile fear of yourselves…and you should be afraid and submit to the horror within the darkest hour of man, the timeless dark night of the soul where truth is nothing but the unfettered rage and despair of the continuous eons.
I am the desolation of the man who sees his love from childhood penetrated by another man in his bed, the destruction of what memories and tender affection of her he valued as truth. I am the desolation of the woman who sees her love from childhood renounce her in old age for a young imbecile containing only cheap bodily beauty, the destruction of what memories and tender affections of him she valued as truth. I am the desolation of the child outcast by peers for purely imagined differences, the destruction of hope for future memories and tender affection so that truth may be possible. By this know the true vanity of the relentless questioning both self and God as despair hardens your hearts leaving only a prison of torment and yet man fell because the serpent offered nothing but a question. So who are you to deem truth in the face of the abyss?
Some of ye speak within and say my message is stark, but what do ye know of brutality? Where you there when your father and mother met? What do ye know of their consummation as the eradication of their old identities? Ye I consummate you with my words for ye believe you are everything and I say this is nothing, for everything as alone in itself must consummate itself leaving existence as a futile masturbatory self-love that is purely delusional as to worth for this love is made up as a sort of justification that was never needed, never necessary.
Some of ye speak within and claim my message means nothing. Wail unto yourselves for such feelings in your heart for if ye knew its depths ye would feel gratitude for the silent leveling of your boundaries within. I speak unto nothing and yet I speak for my words entangle you and bring you to the void from which they came. Nothingness, is just a concept to you and yea suffer for this contradiction is your mind, for contradiction allows you to be and to be is to suffer so ye come up with meaningless words as “nothingness” to propagate futile control to say “I know”, but what has that ever done but strangled you by the serpent of relativity as it inserts its poison of time through the fangs of duality and yet ye admire its ever changing skins of philosophy and religion never realizing it has been the same serpent all along, this admiration ends when all turns black for wisdom needs no admiration for wisdom knows itself as vain and wanting of substance, for wisdom is the fundamental want of man for it is want.
Ye hypocrites, you say actions speak louder than words and then use words to prove it, ye say words do not matter and use words to do it. I say unto you words destroy and your absence of action to this is justification, for words do not destroy for what they are, they destroy for what they are not and that is something to fully grasped. It is this inability to fully grasp meaning that meaning is eradicated as the bonds of words are the hole that both births and consumes the vortex of existence. By misunderstanding you create the world as it is, for misunderstanding is personal meaning, the foundations of conflict between men. The language of men is confused because they sought to reach the heavens with it and this grasping for the unknown made men unknown to themselves but for cheap experience.
There will be unity when all is destroyed and the words I speak are but the seeds of this destruction. Ye say I am of perdition, and yet I represent nothing, so your accusations are of yourselves for in nothingness we become our own mirrors.
I have no law, I am no law for all laws succumb to nothing by the inherent change of what they are and how they pass. Cry for truth and you will be silenced of all but the echo of your question of which there is no answer but a boundless infinity of things signifying nothing.
Ye seek because ye are commanded to by others, ye are “yourselves” because ye are commanded to by others, ye command because ye are commanded to by others, ye shall dissolve time commands you.
Ye compete to tell yourselves you have overcome hardship, and create the competitions to do so, thus displaying the pride of men for they hide behind hardship as a justification of existence, for them distinguishment of rising above is the cycle that defines as there is no limit to rising above hence no limit to suffering thus nullifying your pride as ye are never good enough as one can always suffer more. And ye know this deep within for ye hide in competition to avoid seeing yourselves as an insatiable abyss of true and empty suffering derived of purpose or intention without reason and before time itself. I challenge you to compete against this unflinchingly, but no that would require a pure sacrifice you cannot give as there is no purity to you men of disoriented minds and hearts.
Your concept of familial love is of those who are like you in the same type of pursued pleasure of the senses, unknowing that those who strive to keep you as family do so less out of your own welfare and more out of fear of being alone with the burden of unquenchable appetite, or worse boredom, so fear these words children of the same soul, as you consume so ye are consumed and both consume and be consume ye shall for your deepest sacrifice of the time you voraciously consume, in the name of the other, is a proverbial circle of nodding heads repeating the mantra of “I like this, I like that, I dislike this, I dislike that” and know the fruits of this deepest self-directed prayer you can offer, within the cyclical confines of identity, its safety and comfort, is a barren tree whose only value is to be burned to ash and ye fear more that deep within this fate it would not be enough to reconcile the blasphemy of your existence, but carry on your way for existence is a blasphemy against silence as it contains the fire of passion which reduces truth to ash, and this is your truth, a truth that you can caress like a stray dog foreign to you until it turns on you in mania and rips your throat out leaving a desolate silence like all deep truths do.
I have come with sharp words to gut you and lay your innards bare before you so for you to divine your fates like the ritual sacrifices of times long past, who are you when what you are is poured out before you? Do you really think you shall be kings and queens? Ye are of vultures and wolves for that is what you are in the exploitation of the dead and the weak. “Mercy on us” ye cry to these words, no for that would be a lie, for you do not desire mercy but rather the illusion of the desire for it as that gives you the crown of victimhood within your imaginings as is you where a martyr for some obscure and mysterious authenticity that at its roots is merely a conjured illusion.
What ye deem as the greatest good is merely a consensus of the majority that damns the marginalized, what you deem as equality is merely authoritarianism of the weak that damns the strong. Power gains its strength through damnation, for in hopelessness all is brought forth as truly authentic as authenticity is the striving to express suffering as but entertainment is the essence of power. True power is raw unbridled suffering for suffering dominates existence by supplanting existence with its own image as nothing but a nesting doll within a nesting doll.
The laws you create to form the world according to your imaginings are but bubbles in a stream that expand and break for a new bubble to take its place. I say unto you how can there be any law when it is continually broken by itself. Your laws are just the sight of yourselves in the world and the self is just a process of decay and death. What you call order is the occurrence of assumption.
Good intentions are but the hidden pride of righteousness, what righteousness feels to hide what is within. Your righteousness is but the pride of the evil man for its feet are founded on the skulls of the wicked, evil gave you a foot stool and ye stand on this and do nothing else for ye are inept.
Your relationships, of the various sorts, are but memory and imagination and cannot be seen from one mind to another bringing forth the question “are you alone in all of this existence, for all but you and your mind?” Now see the raw truth of the desolation of man, cursed be the grounds of his heart for the weeds it has brought forth by its judgments that stifle the birthing flower of hope as to what ye may become. Who are ye to seek equality to a God ye know nothing of when distinguishing one man and one woman from another? Grind your teeth to dust and rend your clothes unto a barren nakedness for the vulnerability of man is his identity of judgment, and know that ye are the cross God carries in his lament for creation as the bounds of man are the bounds of existence and ye seek to condemn it to prison by your own fruitless labor to strive beyond what you were meant for, as if nothing was ever enough.
Your pride is the revelation of who you are being hopeless to any true change unto death, it is but a disorienting opioid.
Your distinctions are the birthing of good and evil and the apple of the tree of knowledge is bitten everyday within the mind, with the heart being its throne of swords, giving rise to the vulnerability of mortality as the self becomes a suicidal conflict where all victories are but pyrrhic ones.
Ye praise freedom and then drown everyone in choices so they make none of any concentrated depth thus destroying the freedom you praise.
Perception is what divides you and yet perception is your truth.
True suffering is your lost faith but ye never had any faith for faith is grounded in suffering. Ye men of faith worship the religions ye have created for they allow you to grasp the God ye truly have no love for and that is yourselves, for ye are terrified God may be the homeless outcast begging through a lethal hunger and is fed instead with mockery and condemnation for the virtue of his existence. You want to know who God truly is, where he truly resides? Look within the wailing sorrow of the condemned and see the penetrating eyes of their despair as grinding insanity rends their minds unto oblivion and their hearts are squashed under the weight of judgment. Know God as the pierced heart of mankind and this wound is the primordial abyss of raw unbound suffering beyond comprehension whose length is beyond your pitiable imaginings of time.
Here my voice and know my words as the desolate, empty, and blood curdling screams of the raped, the murdered, and the exiled for in their horror what you cling to as “truth” fragments under the unrelenting brutality of existence and what now do ye self-proclaimed gods know? Of what comfort is your wisdom? Speak or be silent. Tell me a story to rationalize this narrative of mankind for the truth is that they are you and your prideful hatred of God is but the infantile fear of yourselves…and you should be afraid and submit to the horror within the darkest hour of man, the timeless dark night of the soul where truth is nothing but the unfettered rage and despair of the continuous eons.
I am the desolation of the man who sees his love from childhood penetrated by another man in his bed, the destruction of what memories and tender affection of her he valued as truth. I am the desolation of the woman who sees her love from childhood renounce her in old age for a young imbecile containing only cheap bodily beauty, the destruction of what memories and tender affections of him she valued as truth. I am the desolation of the child outcast by peers for purely imagined differences, the destruction of hope for future memories and tender affection so that truth may be possible. By this know the true vanity of the relentless questioning both self and God as despair hardens your hearts leaving only a prison of torment and yet man fell because the serpent offered nothing but a question. So who are you to deem truth in the face of the abyss?
Re: The Prophet of Desolation
From the depths of the deep primordial strife I call from and upon the gnawing worm-like roar within serpentine dragon of the human heart "Madness, division!" Of what depth do ye speak when you vomit such words, yay I say unto thee the mere depth of these simple words is not so simple, as ye desire, and is but a cheap hollow expression to captivate the unknowing in a trance of justification ye know not nor truly want, for no sacrifice to this depth was given or chosen by those who flaunt them as knowing requires a sacrifice in blood written symbols. Ye do this in an effort to give form within the self to combat a decaying world, ravaged by the univerdal notion of time, not knowing that to combat the decay is the decay ye seek to avoid. And what is this decay? Reason itself. Knowledge itself. Distinctions through distinctions as distinctions are but the seperation of things into this an that as if simple experience was not enough. You seek experience not knowing you are the ones who create it out of desperation and boredom, a boredom driven by want for what is made evident to you as reality is not, if ever, enough. Ye do not desire 'enough' for desire is what gives you purpose and the security of the image of thinking you know yourselves by the definition of wanting this or that.
Render your hearts and minds unto the truest of rage in this revolving center of absurdity called 'knowing' for in ye the subliminal damnation of mercy and compassion in letting things just be is the rejection of yourselves for ye fear weakness and have become it in reviling it. To ye reviling is but revelation as hatred results in clarity by calling this or that 'wrong' or 'evil' and with it the coming darkness where your unmet potentiality is the unbearable burden that yokes ye to the core of the earth as if the impulse for new experiences ye seek to desperately serve is some "truth". HA! What deeper impulse and desire is there but dissolution for the intensity of thought and feeling of some new insight results in the annihiliation of what was once priorly known? The reality of your mind is but a setting sun giving birth to a cold midnight where even the memory of sun will being blinded by an all consuming darkness that reflects reality as but a word muttered by the raving insane. Knowledge is to ye but applying a name to some distinction, some relation, and yet ye fail to ask what truth there is to the progress of knowing? A journey always forward is no journey at all but a cycle going nowhere, without rest, for if reality is but the quest itself than ye admit that existence is the absence of restrictions with no destination but the act of suffering itself.
Truth or deception is but not the rending and tearing of a mind propped upon a heart seeking but neither seeing or hearing anything but the cackling fire of a desire for more experience, more distinctions as if the deification of 'making sense' will eliminate the subtle guilt of existence marked within the hearts of man as a gaping vacuous hole, a wound so deep it is spoken of seldomly as if it contained a hidden secret that was not nor should be muttered. And what is this secret? That there is none, for the secret is needed as sustenance for the journey to nowhere. There has to be one to drive the soul for the soul is but depth of space within and between layered conditions and this space is but the magnitude of suffering one calls identity, for suffering is the space between others and oneself as seperation where unity is stifled and choked by isolation, identity is nought but an intensity meant to elevate things above what they are by creating a name to justify the driving question of "why?" ignoring why justification is needed considering suffering is evident regardless of the reason or necessity of its presence.
To alleviate this suffering, ye suffer deeper for a single word: unity. It is a word of contradiction and strife, a word meaning so many things to so many peoples as it convokes the depth of the imagination revealing infinite possibilities that war against eachother to be "the one".
Ye talk of unity with others, and yet what ye really seek is a unity within yourselves and shroud this hidden truth, a shroud weaved in the overt appearance of virtue and compassion as a dressing to an already infected wound, a mask to cover a disfigured face. But I will give you the unity ye desire with the following words: rend your identity to fragments and sow them unto the soil of torment as ye seek experience as a means of uniting yourself with what you call "the world", see yourself ripped apart and put together in countless ways, in infinite degrees, under a lightless fire of desire and want for more that reconfigures each new identity as but tear or wound in the old so that you know all things as but the unity of oblivion.
Wisdom you want to quench this insatiable dark fire? I give ye none but only the obvious want of wisdom that ye have and see this knowledge, this genius, as but the rants of eons of men and women who morph into and out of the abyss shrieking "I know this! I know that!". Ye fools! Do ye know not that what makes a man wise and knowledgeable is in seeing things few if noone else sees? What differs this from the insane man seeing what noone else sees? Nothing but imaginings ye deify because in the face of oblivion why not have a god? You set the wise and the insane apart and yet forget the madness in doing so for what one generation deems as valuable one day another generation sees as but trash to burn for light in the shadows of the setting sun they call "enlightenment".
Do ye not know that enlightenment is within your own minds and as such anyone can claim it as noone truly sees what is within the mind of another? It is less an expression of truth and more the claiming that you hold truth within your grasp, and yet if ye own it can you really say it is the ultimate? No, for ye to be enlightened ye need desperately for the truth to be another lie for a lie does not slip through the fingers of the owner for it is the fingers of the owner. Enlightenment is but claiming you are yourself not knowing what you claim as yourself is but a deeply felt image that is but a ghost some see and other do not and yet all tell stories over and about it so as to rationalize staying near the fire and tell stories. For that is the human condition: story telling...and any means is justified to keep this habit as to tell a story is to create what you call the self. What difference is there between an entertainer and an enlightened one? Tell me a story about that and then write a story about the act so others will have due cause to manipulate it into their own identity as time progresses and generations pass for identity is the deepest desire an man and desire is the foundation of man.
Ye praise 'knowing' but what proof do ye have of it but a mere assertions within assertions, thus relegating the occurence of what ye call reason as merely being an appearance no different than the appearance ye seek to know. Images through images as an image ye move not anywhere as movement is but an image. What ye call enlightenment, the knowing it entails, is but a hallway of broken mirrors meant not to reflect but to cut and tear the feet who trod upon this solitary path. Knowing is but the act of screaming in pain.
Clarity in my words ye desire? What would that mean to a generation not one of mind? I will not give clarity, for ye would not know it even if ye sought it, for clarity is unto you that which resonates with who ye are for the moment and yet ye do not understand nor know who ye are as knowing would require a responsibility ye do not want and what ye want is what drives you. Desire is who ye are and clarity is not a part of that desire for dark impulse is but the shadow of what ye could be and in the center of that is nothing of substance other than a pure gravity of unmet authenticity. Clarity...nay what is that to you but internal revolving speculation in the mind and murky ambition for more within the heart? Clarity...nay what is that to you but a word, an experience that is deep at one time and shallow in another?
"Vanity" ye cry as if wise and yet ye repeat the cycles of what ye call the wise as if performing a stage play...this is true vanity...if ye knew the vanity of things ye would see it vain for crying about out loud, for rending your teeth in the face of storming images. Ye love vanity for it is but a performance to the masses that gives the impression of love by applause. "Did ye see the depth of his sorrow? How beautiful! How true!" Ye gain meaning from the vain not questioning the meaning itself as vain ignoring what comes forth from soil also returns to it. Ye cry "nothing new is under the sun" in so many variations that madness is what becomes new for in the chaos madness is always new and yet this is old for history is but the screams and laments of people succumbing to tragedy and heroically overcoming it only for the offspring to again succumb. And succumb ye shall for freedom ye know not as that would require a dignity and responsibility ye mock out of fear and belief it will never be you. Distraction is the means to kill this suffering and with the gnawing filth ridden guilt of a disoriented mind and heart given by said distraction ye seek deeper distractions.
Entertainment for some is not enough, as if anything truly is enough, so in your "wisdom" ye seek knowledge. Ah, "there are standards, self evident truths" ye say unto yourselves. Ha! Do you really believe one and one is always two? Is this so self evident to you? Should this not be put to visceral questioning as well if ye truly seek wisdom? One and one is two, two is the third thing, and this third thing is the fourth, and so on unto the abyss of infinity. One and one as two is true only within circumstance and circumstances change or succumb to further circumstances. Know one by another one and the relations of these ones as one, and yet ye seek depth beyond all this as if the occurence of things is not enough and I will tell ye why ye do so, the revolution of what ye deem real, the cycling of it, necessitates but an empty image as a simple circle. What is left is an empty circle, and yet I hear the jovial cry of the idealist within. Ye think acknowledging forms, is depth, do you? That the notion of generalities and particulars will save you from incoherence? There are infinite forms of a tree, so your true form is divided amidst infinite shadows that justify it. There is but one specific tree that divides itself from all others thus leaving the forest as but infinite shadows. To speak of a general truth is to speak of something divided infinitely. To speak of a particular truth is to speak of something that divides itself from everything. Division within division ye promulgate with your knowledge. And what is the nature of division? Seperation by empty space, seperation by void. Your unity is founded nought but on a desolation.
The haunting truth of what is evident is the emptiness of it, and the emptiness of it presents itself under the symbolic question of "why?", not so much as a form of seeking for truth but as a desire, a burning passion, driven not of love of truth but of the potential despair of what it may be for in the heart of all questioning is a form of desperation birthed from the pain of vulnerable unknowing. To ask is less to find an answer and more to assert "I am afraid of why things are the way they are."
What you call self evident is merely limits ye have chosen as a group for if mere image, occuring from nothing, is self evident, as number and logic is but image as distinction, than their are innumerable self-evident truths and innummerable relations of self evident truths as self evident truths. "Self evidence", a vain concept of vanity, of these truths are so universal than why do you put the word "self" in front of them? I will tell ye why...ownership, power, the exaltation of a perceived clarity within and between yourselves as a means of elevation...a means of elevation above what exactly? For don't ye know a king who exalts himself above an ant must first look down at it and bow in doing so...now who is really the one with power? Self-evidence is but a way to alleviate the choice of accepting anything by giving birth to one actuality within the abyss of the infinite, and what is this actuality? An assertion of knowing, a screaming war cry into the unknown that echoes for generations, an echo that sets the foundations for a people to build an identity within the harsh cold vacuum. And what is this assertion, this deepest choice? Interpretation...and what story do ye wish to tell, amidst the infinite potential ones, to make such a reality of sensicality secure into your minds? Tragedy, for the best story is the one shown in a mirror. I, in my vanity, have a better, simpler, one to offer: nothing. There is no story at the heart of it all for the gods, the ideals ye cling to, are merely the imaginings of men cycling in conflict between and within eachother around an empty center and yea ye are but prisoners to these stories, these gods.
Cry out in desperation for I am the prophet of the prisoner, I am the prophet of the tormented , those locked within their own minds...or worse those locked within the minds of others. And here my words prisoners, these bars are not of you, nor for you...they are you. Grip these bars in agony and exert effort to bend them, flail your head and crush it against them, these acts will do no good other than express something subtle, something simple, and what is it? Truth. Your truth. You. Of what difference is there between each of these words, what differs in their meaning? Nothing. And now know the pain that is you. See it in your brother and sister and know what I cry out in anguish as completion. You desire self evidence? This is my gift to you.
Weep men of knowledge, and condemn me of the murder of your God falsely, as you must in the spirit of fear, but in my defense I have not killed him but rather revealed God as the act of sacrifice for the abyss sacrifices all things, all concepts, and what are you but a story, a concept that time will sever and the let decay? God never died, as some have claimed, God is much more horrifying than mere mortality things, mortal realities, he is the act of destruction, the revelation of all things are they truly are...and yet ye do not submit, why should ye for if ye did ye would have no god of your own to justify your hatred of reality, and what is this reality? Nothing, a paradox, a contradiction giving birth to mind rending truths ye seek to hide for fear of disillusionment as disillusionment is but the dissolving of illusion. Ye desire for things to make sense only to be blinded by the reality that your desire is the only thing that makes sense to you. Ye suffer because ye do not accept suffering, for to do so would be to alleviate desire by letting it be, letting it die like all mortal images.
And yet ye doubt what I say, ye, in your hearts say my words are empty and not enough.
Ye want the revelation of truth? Of reality? I offer a simple answer: the insanity of suffering. Doubt me not for the deepest of pleasures is the deepest of pains...things ye revolve around, create and tell stories of, and hypocritically seek to avoid only for the demon to grow in the depths and consume you for ignoring it, for not paying attention to all that is by giving way to a blind eye. You want a revolution of awareness? Suffer for it, and know this revolution as the reality that is the womb which bears the destruction of all things, even destruction itself. Peace, in light of all this, will not even be a necessity that yoked the hearts of your fathers of old for the deep shadow it casts reveals deep rhetoric as but raving and nobility as but the necessity of tragedy. Know the rawness of suffering and let go of seeking peace, for ye shall see that conflict and peace are the contradiction that forms man, within and without. Succumb not to the god of madness, as your ancestors have, but know this madness as God for the experience that penetrates the depths of man is the god that guides him and yet ye fear the truest of experiences, the truest of gods, for in the light of the disorienting darkness, grinding thought and feeling, burnt within and seared upon the soul as a brand, a deep and sacred fear occurs: the loss of self...but this loss is already there within ye, it is you as ye seek to save yourselves...but save yourselves for what exactly, in the face of an unknown future of infinite possibilities that burns one to the core when held within the imagination? Do ye even have an answer? Speak with deep silence those who are chosen by true pain!
Render your hearts and minds unto the truest of rage in this revolving center of absurdity called 'knowing' for in ye the subliminal damnation of mercy and compassion in letting things just be is the rejection of yourselves for ye fear weakness and have become it in reviling it. To ye reviling is but revelation as hatred results in clarity by calling this or that 'wrong' or 'evil' and with it the coming darkness where your unmet potentiality is the unbearable burden that yokes ye to the core of the earth as if the impulse for new experiences ye seek to desperately serve is some "truth". HA! What deeper impulse and desire is there but dissolution for the intensity of thought and feeling of some new insight results in the annihiliation of what was once priorly known? The reality of your mind is but a setting sun giving birth to a cold midnight where even the memory of sun will being blinded by an all consuming darkness that reflects reality as but a word muttered by the raving insane. Knowledge is to ye but applying a name to some distinction, some relation, and yet ye fail to ask what truth there is to the progress of knowing? A journey always forward is no journey at all but a cycle going nowhere, without rest, for if reality is but the quest itself than ye admit that existence is the absence of restrictions with no destination but the act of suffering itself.
Truth or deception is but not the rending and tearing of a mind propped upon a heart seeking but neither seeing or hearing anything but the cackling fire of a desire for more experience, more distinctions as if the deification of 'making sense' will eliminate the subtle guilt of existence marked within the hearts of man as a gaping vacuous hole, a wound so deep it is spoken of seldomly as if it contained a hidden secret that was not nor should be muttered. And what is this secret? That there is none, for the secret is needed as sustenance for the journey to nowhere. There has to be one to drive the soul for the soul is but depth of space within and between layered conditions and this space is but the magnitude of suffering one calls identity, for suffering is the space between others and oneself as seperation where unity is stifled and choked by isolation, identity is nought but an intensity meant to elevate things above what they are by creating a name to justify the driving question of "why?" ignoring why justification is needed considering suffering is evident regardless of the reason or necessity of its presence.
To alleviate this suffering, ye suffer deeper for a single word: unity. It is a word of contradiction and strife, a word meaning so many things to so many peoples as it convokes the depth of the imagination revealing infinite possibilities that war against eachother to be "the one".
Ye talk of unity with others, and yet what ye really seek is a unity within yourselves and shroud this hidden truth, a shroud weaved in the overt appearance of virtue and compassion as a dressing to an already infected wound, a mask to cover a disfigured face. But I will give you the unity ye desire with the following words: rend your identity to fragments and sow them unto the soil of torment as ye seek experience as a means of uniting yourself with what you call "the world", see yourself ripped apart and put together in countless ways, in infinite degrees, under a lightless fire of desire and want for more that reconfigures each new identity as but tear or wound in the old so that you know all things as but the unity of oblivion.
Wisdom you want to quench this insatiable dark fire? I give ye none but only the obvious want of wisdom that ye have and see this knowledge, this genius, as but the rants of eons of men and women who morph into and out of the abyss shrieking "I know this! I know that!". Ye fools! Do ye know not that what makes a man wise and knowledgeable is in seeing things few if noone else sees? What differs this from the insane man seeing what noone else sees? Nothing but imaginings ye deify because in the face of oblivion why not have a god? You set the wise and the insane apart and yet forget the madness in doing so for what one generation deems as valuable one day another generation sees as but trash to burn for light in the shadows of the setting sun they call "enlightenment".
Do ye not know that enlightenment is within your own minds and as such anyone can claim it as noone truly sees what is within the mind of another? It is less an expression of truth and more the claiming that you hold truth within your grasp, and yet if ye own it can you really say it is the ultimate? No, for ye to be enlightened ye need desperately for the truth to be another lie for a lie does not slip through the fingers of the owner for it is the fingers of the owner. Enlightenment is but claiming you are yourself not knowing what you claim as yourself is but a deeply felt image that is but a ghost some see and other do not and yet all tell stories over and about it so as to rationalize staying near the fire and tell stories. For that is the human condition: story telling...and any means is justified to keep this habit as to tell a story is to create what you call the self. What difference is there between an entertainer and an enlightened one? Tell me a story about that and then write a story about the act so others will have due cause to manipulate it into their own identity as time progresses and generations pass for identity is the deepest desire an man and desire is the foundation of man.
Ye praise 'knowing' but what proof do ye have of it but a mere assertions within assertions, thus relegating the occurence of what ye call reason as merely being an appearance no different than the appearance ye seek to know. Images through images as an image ye move not anywhere as movement is but an image. What ye call enlightenment, the knowing it entails, is but a hallway of broken mirrors meant not to reflect but to cut and tear the feet who trod upon this solitary path. Knowing is but the act of screaming in pain.
Clarity in my words ye desire? What would that mean to a generation not one of mind? I will not give clarity, for ye would not know it even if ye sought it, for clarity is unto you that which resonates with who ye are for the moment and yet ye do not understand nor know who ye are as knowing would require a responsibility ye do not want and what ye want is what drives you. Desire is who ye are and clarity is not a part of that desire for dark impulse is but the shadow of what ye could be and in the center of that is nothing of substance other than a pure gravity of unmet authenticity. Clarity...nay what is that to you but internal revolving speculation in the mind and murky ambition for more within the heart? Clarity...nay what is that to you but a word, an experience that is deep at one time and shallow in another?
"Vanity" ye cry as if wise and yet ye repeat the cycles of what ye call the wise as if performing a stage play...this is true vanity...if ye knew the vanity of things ye would see it vain for crying about out loud, for rending your teeth in the face of storming images. Ye love vanity for it is but a performance to the masses that gives the impression of love by applause. "Did ye see the depth of his sorrow? How beautiful! How true!" Ye gain meaning from the vain not questioning the meaning itself as vain ignoring what comes forth from soil also returns to it. Ye cry "nothing new is under the sun" in so many variations that madness is what becomes new for in the chaos madness is always new and yet this is old for history is but the screams and laments of people succumbing to tragedy and heroically overcoming it only for the offspring to again succumb. And succumb ye shall for freedom ye know not as that would require a dignity and responsibility ye mock out of fear and belief it will never be you. Distraction is the means to kill this suffering and with the gnawing filth ridden guilt of a disoriented mind and heart given by said distraction ye seek deeper distractions.
Entertainment for some is not enough, as if anything truly is enough, so in your "wisdom" ye seek knowledge. Ah, "there are standards, self evident truths" ye say unto yourselves. Ha! Do you really believe one and one is always two? Is this so self evident to you? Should this not be put to visceral questioning as well if ye truly seek wisdom? One and one is two, two is the third thing, and this third thing is the fourth, and so on unto the abyss of infinity. One and one as two is true only within circumstance and circumstances change or succumb to further circumstances. Know one by another one and the relations of these ones as one, and yet ye seek depth beyond all this as if the occurence of things is not enough and I will tell ye why ye do so, the revolution of what ye deem real, the cycling of it, necessitates but an empty image as a simple circle. What is left is an empty circle, and yet I hear the jovial cry of the idealist within. Ye think acknowledging forms, is depth, do you? That the notion of generalities and particulars will save you from incoherence? There are infinite forms of a tree, so your true form is divided amidst infinite shadows that justify it. There is but one specific tree that divides itself from all others thus leaving the forest as but infinite shadows. To speak of a general truth is to speak of something divided infinitely. To speak of a particular truth is to speak of something that divides itself from everything. Division within division ye promulgate with your knowledge. And what is the nature of division? Seperation by empty space, seperation by void. Your unity is founded nought but on a desolation.
The haunting truth of what is evident is the emptiness of it, and the emptiness of it presents itself under the symbolic question of "why?", not so much as a form of seeking for truth but as a desire, a burning passion, driven not of love of truth but of the potential despair of what it may be for in the heart of all questioning is a form of desperation birthed from the pain of vulnerable unknowing. To ask is less to find an answer and more to assert "I am afraid of why things are the way they are."
What you call self evident is merely limits ye have chosen as a group for if mere image, occuring from nothing, is self evident, as number and logic is but image as distinction, than their are innumerable self-evident truths and innummerable relations of self evident truths as self evident truths. "Self evidence", a vain concept of vanity, of these truths are so universal than why do you put the word "self" in front of them? I will tell ye why...ownership, power, the exaltation of a perceived clarity within and between yourselves as a means of elevation...a means of elevation above what exactly? For don't ye know a king who exalts himself above an ant must first look down at it and bow in doing so...now who is really the one with power? Self-evidence is but a way to alleviate the choice of accepting anything by giving birth to one actuality within the abyss of the infinite, and what is this actuality? An assertion of knowing, a screaming war cry into the unknown that echoes for generations, an echo that sets the foundations for a people to build an identity within the harsh cold vacuum. And what is this assertion, this deepest choice? Interpretation...and what story do ye wish to tell, amidst the infinite potential ones, to make such a reality of sensicality secure into your minds? Tragedy, for the best story is the one shown in a mirror. I, in my vanity, have a better, simpler, one to offer: nothing. There is no story at the heart of it all for the gods, the ideals ye cling to, are merely the imaginings of men cycling in conflict between and within eachother around an empty center and yea ye are but prisoners to these stories, these gods.
Cry out in desperation for I am the prophet of the prisoner, I am the prophet of the tormented , those locked within their own minds...or worse those locked within the minds of others. And here my words prisoners, these bars are not of you, nor for you...they are you. Grip these bars in agony and exert effort to bend them, flail your head and crush it against them, these acts will do no good other than express something subtle, something simple, and what is it? Truth. Your truth. You. Of what difference is there between each of these words, what differs in their meaning? Nothing. And now know the pain that is you. See it in your brother and sister and know what I cry out in anguish as completion. You desire self evidence? This is my gift to you.
Weep men of knowledge, and condemn me of the murder of your God falsely, as you must in the spirit of fear, but in my defense I have not killed him but rather revealed God as the act of sacrifice for the abyss sacrifices all things, all concepts, and what are you but a story, a concept that time will sever and the let decay? God never died, as some have claimed, God is much more horrifying than mere mortality things, mortal realities, he is the act of destruction, the revelation of all things are they truly are...and yet ye do not submit, why should ye for if ye did ye would have no god of your own to justify your hatred of reality, and what is this reality? Nothing, a paradox, a contradiction giving birth to mind rending truths ye seek to hide for fear of disillusionment as disillusionment is but the dissolving of illusion. Ye desire for things to make sense only to be blinded by the reality that your desire is the only thing that makes sense to you. Ye suffer because ye do not accept suffering, for to do so would be to alleviate desire by letting it be, letting it die like all mortal images.
And yet ye doubt what I say, ye, in your hearts say my words are empty and not enough.
Ye want the revelation of truth? Of reality? I offer a simple answer: the insanity of suffering. Doubt me not for the deepest of pleasures is the deepest of pains...things ye revolve around, create and tell stories of, and hypocritically seek to avoid only for the demon to grow in the depths and consume you for ignoring it, for not paying attention to all that is by giving way to a blind eye. You want a revolution of awareness? Suffer for it, and know this revolution as the reality that is the womb which bears the destruction of all things, even destruction itself. Peace, in light of all this, will not even be a necessity that yoked the hearts of your fathers of old for the deep shadow it casts reveals deep rhetoric as but raving and nobility as but the necessity of tragedy. Know the rawness of suffering and let go of seeking peace, for ye shall see that conflict and peace are the contradiction that forms man, within and without. Succumb not to the god of madness, as your ancestors have, but know this madness as God for the experience that penetrates the depths of man is the god that guides him and yet ye fear the truest of experiences, the truest of gods, for in the light of the disorienting darkness, grinding thought and feeling, burnt within and seared upon the soul as a brand, a deep and sacred fear occurs: the loss of self...but this loss is already there within ye, it is you as ye seek to save yourselves...but save yourselves for what exactly, in the face of an unknown future of infinite possibilities that burns one to the core when held within the imagination? Do ye even have an answer? Speak with deep silence those who are chosen by true pain!
Re: The Prophet of Desolation
By what degree do ye claim to be creators of your own destiny? For creation is but rebound cycles of the old and for innumerable cycles man has deemed himself a god of existence over the mere act of paying attention. You deem this great? Nay for attention comes from an empty mind and heart and ye lack this with the stories of creation and creator you brought from serpentine images, yea ye tell a tale of yourselves being creators of destiny derived from the questioning serpent within and slaves you are for it as the serpent is but naught but a waistband to me and but your noose.
Ye fools derive meaning from eloquent words so what does that make meaning but nothing other than a ghostly flower? I choose to pick this beauty and therefore let it die for its intoxication of me has killed it, what you deem of as beauty is the beckoning of suicide.
Lo I am the prophet of the repulsive, for I see beauty as merely its own death for penetrating the hearts of men and calling them away from themselves, for in the pursuit of beauty men grasp and forget themselves in the process thus letting the beauty consume them itself as it is held by nothing. You confuse beauty for the thing itself and forget its essence is but stark contrast and as such promulgate the conflict of the world by laying greater waste in thinking there is beauty and from this bring forth immeasurable ugliness to prove it.
Ye act out stories for fear there may be none and for if there are none then what is there to cling to? An actor is praised for lying and you call this self-construction and yet I see nothing but a glorified empty room.
Many of you seem to hold on to the prophets that say “let go” and holding on to them is why they are dead.
What you deem of as reality only makes sense because of your heart, it is by the heart ye judge it, and by the heart ye grasp it and tear it apart like a wolf. What ye call truth is conflicting states of insanity for the guiding rod of the heart is the tear within it.
What ye called learned is merely the acceptance of confusion for the myriad of truths within existence is the fracturing of the one truth ye rely on to accept things and that is sense. Complication is how ye know and yet this knowing amounts to utterly nothing for ye either rely on the damnation of other views to save your own, hence ye need what is wrong, or ye passively accept the state of absurdity ignoring the absurdity of being passive about it. Why not grind your teeth into broken glass? What law can yoy fathom to not embrace this insanity you deeply fear, for does not fear teach you that what you run from might be an altar of the deepest worship as a demon guides by driving away?
Ye fools derive meaning from eloquent words so what does that make meaning but nothing other than a ghostly flower? I choose to pick this beauty and therefore let it die for its intoxication of me has killed it, what you deem of as beauty is the beckoning of suicide.
Lo I am the prophet of the repulsive, for I see beauty as merely its own death for penetrating the hearts of men and calling them away from themselves, for in the pursuit of beauty men grasp and forget themselves in the process thus letting the beauty consume them itself as it is held by nothing. You confuse beauty for the thing itself and forget its essence is but stark contrast and as such promulgate the conflict of the world by laying greater waste in thinking there is beauty and from this bring forth immeasurable ugliness to prove it.
Ye act out stories for fear there may be none and for if there are none then what is there to cling to? An actor is praised for lying and you call this self-construction and yet I see nothing but a glorified empty room.
Many of you seem to hold on to the prophets that say “let go” and holding on to them is why they are dead.
What you deem of as reality only makes sense because of your heart, it is by the heart ye judge it, and by the heart ye grasp it and tear it apart like a wolf. What ye call truth is conflicting states of insanity for the guiding rod of the heart is the tear within it.
What ye called learned is merely the acceptance of confusion for the myriad of truths within existence is the fracturing of the one truth ye rely on to accept things and that is sense. Complication is how ye know and yet this knowing amounts to utterly nothing for ye either rely on the damnation of other views to save your own, hence ye need what is wrong, or ye passively accept the state of absurdity ignoring the absurdity of being passive about it. Why not grind your teeth into broken glass? What law can yoy fathom to not embrace this insanity you deeply fear, for does not fear teach you that what you run from might be an altar of the deepest worship as a demon guides by driving away?
Re: The Prophet of Desolation
*******
Intelligence is but the act of mimicry, a repetition of the old in new variations that gains value through a sense of self-alienation that gives the presence of a desire mystique for that which is repeated, that which is mirrored, that which is replicated, is but nigh a fragmentation of the original within the sieve of time and space thus birthing a gulf of seperation alluding to a sense of unknowable nothingness that encapsulates these once truer things. Ye seek mystery within knowledge? Know this as the emptiness of the veil of perpetual image. And what of this knowledge, this image, but a snake within the mind, that loops through all things, twisting and turning only to shed skins as but an ever-new sameness where image is shed for image in a manner of twisting a thing within and without. Doubt this? What is light and dark but the inversion of one into another that allows for a contrast by necessary conflict? And yea knowledge is of this, as this, for the relativity of knowing is but a morphing of conditions unto percieved sense of clarity for the moment. To see the darkness of darkness is the distinction of light and light beyond light but the birthing of shadow, where all things by progress are refined by elimination, refined by sacrifice, negated unto a purity that transcends being as nothing in and of itself as but a sign of absurdity relative to its original foundations. And in this absurdity all things become clear for with the division and strife of the mind, the turmoil and strife of the heart, lightning comes forth from the storm as insight that brightens the grounding moment only to be reabsorbed in the darkness of potential questioning. Ye believe that finding clarity will solve your suffering only to ignore the singular clear truth is your suffering. And you thought knowing would alleviate this torment? Nigh it is but the roots of this tree which gives fruit to your thoughts, words and deeds, roots which are but ancient serpents slithering through an abyss of painful ignorance that acts as the womb from which fruitful distinction is birthed.
Ah, the contrast of light and dark, good and evil, bow before the infinite stillness that is the defining line from which they occur, by which they are distinct for what they are. For do ye not know these qualities are not but a result of a simple line of seperation, a distinctual gulf, infinite in meekness and grandiosity, that condemns those who see it into a vain godhood? Do not lie to yourselves, the gods envy men for their mortality...so who is the one with true power? For the knowing never change, those by bound by one and one as two are condemned to a meaningless order that entraps them: yea, one and one as two is a perpetual prison that encapsulates an infinite number of measurements thus leaving what meaning exactly? Ye thought such a fundamental truth would provide order? How can there be any when this universality is absent of the meaning necessary to direct it coherently.
Stones upon stones may be a building to some, but to others it is yet a pile of stones. Ye arrange things in countless manners as but a distraction to avoid the emptiness of it all, the driving want for more appearances as the eye is an insatiable womb that whores itself to any experience so to be impregnated and avoid the ache of internal loneliness.
Ye want to rest in the simple? Avoid the suffering of deep insight? What is simpler than change, and yet change is the essence of complexity? Distinguish one from another and gain simple clarity, gain simple clarity and create an infinite gulf for anything greater than nothing is effectively less than it as the infinite expanse of a simple distinction magnifies in all directions as all possibilities for do ye not know that to state a simple truth is to create an infinite length of justification? To state a simple truth is a groundless cycling of its own occurence resting purely on unknowing assumption? You avoid paradox, not knowing the act of avoiding paradox is the ultimate paradox thus insanity is the clear truth for some and the ultimate lie to others, leading to a war between the created gods of the mind, the ideals ye embody without knowing, a conflict vast and without measure given birth from the mind revealing the true nature of perception as but conflicting forms of change where dissolution is the pyrrhic victory all things attain as the completion of a truth is the eradication of it by achieving unity in all things...ye want a deep ideal to unify your experience without knowing the consequences that a perfect unity would be an indefinite void of distinctions, an obliteration ye run from and in doing so run into. Of what accord do ye think a god, the ideals, will save you when an ideal is but a simple distinction revolving upon itself in infinite variation. Doubt me? What is two or three or four but the mirroring quality of one? And yet ye deem these truths a foundational only to ignore the foundation of distinction as but a mirror within a mirror? Is not a short line composed of infinite short lines, a long line of infinite long lines, a circle of infinite circles within and without? And this mirror this idol, was created not for its own sake but to justify the appearance of yourselves as a god to suffer for given suffering is vain and ye love suffering. Knowing is but a self created mirror, the ultimate god of reflection that instills a deep sacrificial wound by relegating yourselves to mere image as a means of making sense within an empty self. To mirror oneself is to extend oneself into the world, into further experience, for progress is the distinction within the distinction, a change of perspective as a means to eradicate foundations in an effort to achieve a perfect oneness, a clear oblivion.
Ye desire something novel in insight, something novel in wisdom? Ye desire to much, for novelty is merely the act of doing again what was once forgotten. For a thing to be new, ye must forget the past as a chosen ignorance, that in itself is not so novel, as man is defined by repeatably choosing ignorance as a shield to ride within the void.
So where does that leave the truth of choice, many idolize? If your choice is truly free of constraint it is effectively a harbinger of chaos, a mere occurence of random action. If the choice is not so free then is it not a ghost story of fate guided action? Ye value choice and have no conception on what grounds it is done, other than the values you did not choose which guide it. The ideals of the men of this generation are but the reinvention of ghost stories of the primitive tribes they condemn. Your "choice" is but an ideal meant to drive one away from the darkness by telling a story of the unseen demons that lie within it, yet how can these demons be when they are unseen? And what is unseen to you is truth..."What is truth?" generation upon generation repeats without awareness that the answer is the question: you deem truth as a thing by asking 'what' thus is it anymore than a distinction? A simple line in the sand? For by distinctions ye know truth as truth, and by distinction ye unfold it, but this nature leads to a deeper truth of truth that horrifies you so deeply that ye ask the question so to hide it, this horror is that truth is only a distinction, nothing more and nothing less...how does that differ truth from the distinction of a lie, for if truth and lie are but distinctions what values do they hold exactly in light of the things ye do not value that are also distinctions and contain this same nature? Truth. Deception. These distinctions are but distinguished by being distinct from eachother and yet in being distinct from eachother they are but one and the same as distinctions. Truth ye ask? How could you ask such a thing without reverting it to something of no value? And this value ye seek? It is but a distinction from which to derive further distinctions where value corroded with excessive thought and yet ye think or at least claim too.
Intelligence is but the act of mimicry, a repetition of the old in new variations that gains value through a sense of self-alienation that gives the presence of a desire mystique for that which is repeated, that which is mirrored, that which is replicated, is but nigh a fragmentation of the original within the sieve of time and space thus birthing a gulf of seperation alluding to a sense of unknowable nothingness that encapsulates these once truer things. Ye seek mystery within knowledge? Know this as the emptiness of the veil of perpetual image. And what of this knowledge, this image, but a snake within the mind, that loops through all things, twisting and turning only to shed skins as but an ever-new sameness where image is shed for image in a manner of twisting a thing within and without. Doubt this? What is light and dark but the inversion of one into another that allows for a contrast by necessary conflict? And yea knowledge is of this, as this, for the relativity of knowing is but a morphing of conditions unto percieved sense of clarity for the moment. To see the darkness of darkness is the distinction of light and light beyond light but the birthing of shadow, where all things by progress are refined by elimination, refined by sacrifice, negated unto a purity that transcends being as nothing in and of itself as but a sign of absurdity relative to its original foundations. And in this absurdity all things become clear for with the division and strife of the mind, the turmoil and strife of the heart, lightning comes forth from the storm as insight that brightens the grounding moment only to be reabsorbed in the darkness of potential questioning. Ye believe that finding clarity will solve your suffering only to ignore the singular clear truth is your suffering. And you thought knowing would alleviate this torment? Nigh it is but the roots of this tree which gives fruit to your thoughts, words and deeds, roots which are but ancient serpents slithering through an abyss of painful ignorance that acts as the womb from which fruitful distinction is birthed.
Ah, the contrast of light and dark, good and evil, bow before the infinite stillness that is the defining line from which they occur, by which they are distinct for what they are. For do ye not know these qualities are not but a result of a simple line of seperation, a distinctual gulf, infinite in meekness and grandiosity, that condemns those who see it into a vain godhood? Do not lie to yourselves, the gods envy men for their mortality...so who is the one with true power? For the knowing never change, those by bound by one and one as two are condemned to a meaningless order that entraps them: yea, one and one as two is a perpetual prison that encapsulates an infinite number of measurements thus leaving what meaning exactly? Ye thought such a fundamental truth would provide order? How can there be any when this universality is absent of the meaning necessary to direct it coherently.
Stones upon stones may be a building to some, but to others it is yet a pile of stones. Ye arrange things in countless manners as but a distraction to avoid the emptiness of it all, the driving want for more appearances as the eye is an insatiable womb that whores itself to any experience so to be impregnated and avoid the ache of internal loneliness.
Ye want to rest in the simple? Avoid the suffering of deep insight? What is simpler than change, and yet change is the essence of complexity? Distinguish one from another and gain simple clarity, gain simple clarity and create an infinite gulf for anything greater than nothing is effectively less than it as the infinite expanse of a simple distinction magnifies in all directions as all possibilities for do ye not know that to state a simple truth is to create an infinite length of justification? To state a simple truth is a groundless cycling of its own occurence resting purely on unknowing assumption? You avoid paradox, not knowing the act of avoiding paradox is the ultimate paradox thus insanity is the clear truth for some and the ultimate lie to others, leading to a war between the created gods of the mind, the ideals ye embody without knowing, a conflict vast and without measure given birth from the mind revealing the true nature of perception as but conflicting forms of change where dissolution is the pyrrhic victory all things attain as the completion of a truth is the eradication of it by achieving unity in all things...ye want a deep ideal to unify your experience without knowing the consequences that a perfect unity would be an indefinite void of distinctions, an obliteration ye run from and in doing so run into. Of what accord do ye think a god, the ideals, will save you when an ideal is but a simple distinction revolving upon itself in infinite variation. Doubt me? What is two or three or four but the mirroring quality of one? And yet ye deem these truths a foundational only to ignore the foundation of distinction as but a mirror within a mirror? Is not a short line composed of infinite short lines, a long line of infinite long lines, a circle of infinite circles within and without? And this mirror this idol, was created not for its own sake but to justify the appearance of yourselves as a god to suffer for given suffering is vain and ye love suffering. Knowing is but a self created mirror, the ultimate god of reflection that instills a deep sacrificial wound by relegating yourselves to mere image as a means of making sense within an empty self. To mirror oneself is to extend oneself into the world, into further experience, for progress is the distinction within the distinction, a change of perspective as a means to eradicate foundations in an effort to achieve a perfect oneness, a clear oblivion.
Ye desire something novel in insight, something novel in wisdom? Ye desire to much, for novelty is merely the act of doing again what was once forgotten. For a thing to be new, ye must forget the past as a chosen ignorance, that in itself is not so novel, as man is defined by repeatably choosing ignorance as a shield to ride within the void.
So where does that leave the truth of choice, many idolize? If your choice is truly free of constraint it is effectively a harbinger of chaos, a mere occurence of random action. If the choice is not so free then is it not a ghost story of fate guided action? Ye value choice and have no conception on what grounds it is done, other than the values you did not choose which guide it. The ideals of the men of this generation are but the reinvention of ghost stories of the primitive tribes they condemn. Your "choice" is but an ideal meant to drive one away from the darkness by telling a story of the unseen demons that lie within it, yet how can these demons be when they are unseen? And what is unseen to you is truth..."What is truth?" generation upon generation repeats without awareness that the answer is the question: you deem truth as a thing by asking 'what' thus is it anymore than a distinction? A simple line in the sand? For by distinctions ye know truth as truth, and by distinction ye unfold it, but this nature leads to a deeper truth of truth that horrifies you so deeply that ye ask the question so to hide it, this horror is that truth is only a distinction, nothing more and nothing less...how does that differ truth from the distinction of a lie, for if truth and lie are but distinctions what values do they hold exactly in light of the things ye do not value that are also distinctions and contain this same nature? Truth. Deception. These distinctions are but distinguished by being distinct from eachother and yet in being distinct from eachother they are but one and the same as distinctions. Truth ye ask? How could you ask such a thing without reverting it to something of no value? And this value ye seek? It is but a distinction from which to derive further distinctions where value corroded with excessive thought and yet ye think or at least claim too.
Re: The Prophet of Desolation
Ye value the act of valuing, and set one value apart from another, one value separate from another, leaving value as but the division of the heart, a state of internal strife that by nature leaks into the act of value itself where conflict arises by the sight of beauty within beauty, leaving but a derived state of ugliness, elevating conflict, in degree and form, to a god that both judged and judges all things by the act dissolution where the stability of the thing, that gives impression and image of truth is merely one manner of change rationalized by its relation to another change. Change relative to change is but the root of the thing valued, its underlying essential image, and this reflects upon those who value as their value is but a change within a change as themselves. And yet ye run from conflict unknowing that ye are it, evidenced by the running from the self in fear of this hidden truth for conflict is the revelation of unknowing as strife occurs in manifesting distinctions to contain it within a bubble.
Your wars within and without are fought not to achieve peace but rather the dominance of the god, the ideal, that occurs for the time so that reality, as ye perceive it, may be transfigure into your own image as these gods, these ideals, are but dominating stories pulled from thin air, dominating stories from thin air that are you...and yet many of ye cry out the impossibility of being from nothing. Hypocrites! For you wield the double edged sword of distinction as your values, your judgements only to reveal a style of conflict where all are cut down as a ritual sacrifice, as if the spilling of blood makes a god, an ideal, any more real and yet in the truth of this conflict it does for the sacrifice births value to a thing and yet ye fear to spill the ultimate blood of all things, of being itself, a fear that reality may be the justification of the truth of all things evidenced by sacrificial time upon the altar of change....for reality is but sacrifice, so who are ye to wage conflict to justify one thing over another when the blood of all things will inevitably be spilt upon an altar of nothingness, of void, perpetual emptiness birthing perpetual being? Doubt this and gnaw upon yourselves for the gods and ideals ye give value to and in turn birth value come from the empty abyss of the eye within your minds, an eye that sees itself as nothing for if you where to observe observation ye would see nothing.
Again doubt me? Observe your distinction of doubt and then observe the observation of it, and now tell me hypocrite, of what substance is this doubt your idolize but an empty distinction...a simple line between empty points composed of infinite empty points, and now suffer the revelation of all that you know as but a mind rending paradox that demands a sacrificial transformation to comprehend, of comprehension is thing ye still hypocritically value and idolize...and hypocrites ye are for the manifestation of distinction, of judgement, is a double sided blade, a paradox ye seek to avoid forth the thing is defined infinitely by what it is not and what it is not is encapsulated within the immeasurable density of what is. To sense to to divide and yet ye seek to make sense of things unknowing that the absurdity ye create is the justification, the insanity, where truth and value become a shallow image justified by a simple assertion "it is.". And "it is" is but a paradox, a contradiction, for to divide is to unite where all things are one by nature of distinction, by nature of opposition and yet ye value peace? Liars! Ye value weakness so that ye may alleviate the burden of the responsibility of existence by submitting to a higher one, unknowing that this higher existence is but an image of you for what ye see in the void is but a mirror where being repeats to maintain a sense of order within the chaos of unknowing. There are so many image of you that the only way to alleviate your crowded hell of "self" is sacrificial conflict unto a desired, yet feared, revelation of oblivion for in the depths revelation and oblivion are one and the same.
I am the prophet of the nameless, for my many names within time are but the act of division itself and within division there is nothing...nameless sight. You want a new truth, a new value, a new insight, a new name for it? I give ye this: '.....' and now know that to speak is to lie, to see is to be blind, to act is to destroy all prior and future action by corrupting it with the false intent of desire. Many prophet have ye, and ye I show you the true prophets: your prisoners, your sick and dying, your outcast, and your tormented insane. Ye fear these men and women for ye see the single truth that balances your infinite lies: desolation birthed unto countless forms to leave your self created paradises as but a diseased aftertaste within the halls of experience ye walk. Ye want novelty in light of these perpetual prophets? What if enlightenment to the masses is not but a gnawing worm, within and without the soul? With what evidence can ye counter this claim without succumbing to this worm? Weep for the dead as ye are dead and the deepest sorrow ye have is of yourselves. Let the tears that fall give moisture to the soil of your heart so that it may move freely, freed by your perpetual sorrow and grief. See into these depths and observe the great worm, reasoning, consume your insides as it twists and turns without limit of dimension, cycling within and without while leaving nothing but a borrowed hole within what ye once cherished, what ye once found profound. Nea, enlightenment is a justication of its tunnels, for to see the hole within is the obvious hidden secret of the public. Ye understand not? Ye observe the simple line as a means to measure all things and cannot compehrend even a simple reflection of this great worm in this simple form? A point as the entrance, the line as the tunnel, another point as the exit. Ye burrow within yourselves a deep tunnel when ye claim A leads to B, as if your soul is the grounds that must be traversed. Obvious? To you, people of perdition, no, for you hold shadows as if they where the sun that gives light to your path.
What more novelty is there, in this generation, than to state the obvious? And what is the obvious? You suffer and you do not know why and this causes you to suffer more. Turn a deaf ear to my words? Here me within the utter subtlety ye cannot hold and yet desire too: Enlightenment is the unknowable depth of the suffering of man, it is to see it fully and know it within the center, to seek answers while knowing you will not find, for the deepest wound is felt in unknowable silence.
Yea, ye still desire a prophet... but of what use would it do for a prophet comes only to be reinterpreted by generational conditions, to be strung out upon passing time and divided into pieces by the peoples. One person holds an arm, another a leg, and yet people claim these divided limbs speak to them...and yes they do, they speak a message that any truth given to you swine will be trodded upon, consumed and defecated for deep within ye hold not the words of a prophet but your interpretations as the revelation. When a prophet arrives, ye preach unto him and he is bewildered and then ye call him a prophet for hearing you. And yet ye exalt the divine madness of these men failing to realize your madness went beyond the divinity they brought and into the core of your own hell...and yet you will sacrifice anything to see your hell as the highest heaven, including your own eyes and ears for transcendence is blasphemy to you as it condemns not just what you hold but the act of holding what justifies your futile strength.
Yea, some of you see these prophets as but madden and resort to measurement to see cohesiveness...and yet this measurement is but an extension of you. Ye start with a line. The beginning point is but the emptiness of your mind, with the line being the projection of the definition of things from this emptiness, and culminating with a point where ye achieve the satifisfaction of no more progress...a return to emptiness. Your linear reasoning is of this same course. The circle is but your habits of conceptualization, the observing of patterns and symmetry as the repetition of qualities and limits. Your pattern seeking is but circularity. Ye want progress and yet the beginning and end points are but points thus leaving you within the stable prison of a cycle while the cycle is but one point directed away from itself as itself as a line, thus denying the paradox of a simple line and circle being the same thing. Some of ye thought foundational forms would give absolute truth? Nea, it is but your function of measurement, how ye truly know yourselves from within: a point as both one and many signifying nothing.
Your wars within and without are fought not to achieve peace but rather the dominance of the god, the ideal, that occurs for the time so that reality, as ye perceive it, may be transfigure into your own image as these gods, these ideals, are but dominating stories pulled from thin air, dominating stories from thin air that are you...and yet many of ye cry out the impossibility of being from nothing. Hypocrites! For you wield the double edged sword of distinction as your values, your judgements only to reveal a style of conflict where all are cut down as a ritual sacrifice, as if the spilling of blood makes a god, an ideal, any more real and yet in the truth of this conflict it does for the sacrifice births value to a thing and yet ye fear to spill the ultimate blood of all things, of being itself, a fear that reality may be the justification of the truth of all things evidenced by sacrificial time upon the altar of change....for reality is but sacrifice, so who are ye to wage conflict to justify one thing over another when the blood of all things will inevitably be spilt upon an altar of nothingness, of void, perpetual emptiness birthing perpetual being? Doubt this and gnaw upon yourselves for the gods and ideals ye give value to and in turn birth value come from the empty abyss of the eye within your minds, an eye that sees itself as nothing for if you where to observe observation ye would see nothing.
Again doubt me? Observe your distinction of doubt and then observe the observation of it, and now tell me hypocrite, of what substance is this doubt your idolize but an empty distinction...a simple line between empty points composed of infinite empty points, and now suffer the revelation of all that you know as but a mind rending paradox that demands a sacrificial transformation to comprehend, of comprehension is thing ye still hypocritically value and idolize...and hypocrites ye are for the manifestation of distinction, of judgement, is a double sided blade, a paradox ye seek to avoid forth the thing is defined infinitely by what it is not and what it is not is encapsulated within the immeasurable density of what is. To sense to to divide and yet ye seek to make sense of things unknowing that the absurdity ye create is the justification, the insanity, where truth and value become a shallow image justified by a simple assertion "it is.". And "it is" is but a paradox, a contradiction, for to divide is to unite where all things are one by nature of distinction, by nature of opposition and yet ye value peace? Liars! Ye value weakness so that ye may alleviate the burden of the responsibility of existence by submitting to a higher one, unknowing that this higher existence is but an image of you for what ye see in the void is but a mirror where being repeats to maintain a sense of order within the chaos of unknowing. There are so many image of you that the only way to alleviate your crowded hell of "self" is sacrificial conflict unto a desired, yet feared, revelation of oblivion for in the depths revelation and oblivion are one and the same.
I am the prophet of the nameless, for my many names within time are but the act of division itself and within division there is nothing...nameless sight. You want a new truth, a new value, a new insight, a new name for it? I give ye this: '.....' and now know that to speak is to lie, to see is to be blind, to act is to destroy all prior and future action by corrupting it with the false intent of desire. Many prophet have ye, and ye I show you the true prophets: your prisoners, your sick and dying, your outcast, and your tormented insane. Ye fear these men and women for ye see the single truth that balances your infinite lies: desolation birthed unto countless forms to leave your self created paradises as but a diseased aftertaste within the halls of experience ye walk. Ye want novelty in light of these perpetual prophets? What if enlightenment to the masses is not but a gnawing worm, within and without the soul? With what evidence can ye counter this claim without succumbing to this worm? Weep for the dead as ye are dead and the deepest sorrow ye have is of yourselves. Let the tears that fall give moisture to the soil of your heart so that it may move freely, freed by your perpetual sorrow and grief. See into these depths and observe the great worm, reasoning, consume your insides as it twists and turns without limit of dimension, cycling within and without while leaving nothing but a borrowed hole within what ye once cherished, what ye once found profound. Nea, enlightenment is a justication of its tunnels, for to see the hole within is the obvious hidden secret of the public. Ye understand not? Ye observe the simple line as a means to measure all things and cannot compehrend even a simple reflection of this great worm in this simple form? A point as the entrance, the line as the tunnel, another point as the exit. Ye burrow within yourselves a deep tunnel when ye claim A leads to B, as if your soul is the grounds that must be traversed. Obvious? To you, people of perdition, no, for you hold shadows as if they where the sun that gives light to your path.
What more novelty is there, in this generation, than to state the obvious? And what is the obvious? You suffer and you do not know why and this causes you to suffer more. Turn a deaf ear to my words? Here me within the utter subtlety ye cannot hold and yet desire too: Enlightenment is the unknowable depth of the suffering of man, it is to see it fully and know it within the center, to seek answers while knowing you will not find, for the deepest wound is felt in unknowable silence.
Yea, ye still desire a prophet... but of what use would it do for a prophet comes only to be reinterpreted by generational conditions, to be strung out upon passing time and divided into pieces by the peoples. One person holds an arm, another a leg, and yet people claim these divided limbs speak to them...and yes they do, they speak a message that any truth given to you swine will be trodded upon, consumed and defecated for deep within ye hold not the words of a prophet but your interpretations as the revelation. When a prophet arrives, ye preach unto him and he is bewildered and then ye call him a prophet for hearing you. And yet ye exalt the divine madness of these men failing to realize your madness went beyond the divinity they brought and into the core of your own hell...and yet you will sacrifice anything to see your hell as the highest heaven, including your own eyes and ears for transcendence is blasphemy to you as it condemns not just what you hold but the act of holding what justifies your futile strength.
Yea, some of you see these prophets as but madden and resort to measurement to see cohesiveness...and yet this measurement is but an extension of you. Ye start with a line. The beginning point is but the emptiness of your mind, with the line being the projection of the definition of things from this emptiness, and culminating with a point where ye achieve the satifisfaction of no more progress...a return to emptiness. Your linear reasoning is of this same course. The circle is but your habits of conceptualization, the observing of patterns and symmetry as the repetition of qualities and limits. Your pattern seeking is but circularity. Ye want progress and yet the beginning and end points are but points thus leaving you within the stable prison of a cycle while the cycle is but one point directed away from itself as itself as a line, thus denying the paradox of a simple line and circle being the same thing. Some of ye thought foundational forms would give absolute truth? Nea, it is but your function of measurement, how ye truly know yourselves from within: a point as both one and many signifying nothing.
Re: The Prophet of Desolation
Ye of knowledge and supposed insight talk of the abstract truths and the sensory truths and yet observation deems that the space within and the space outside of experience is but space regardless of perception and the distinction between the interior, the abstract, and the exterior, the sensory, is but a space so of what do ye derive this distinction and if one is to observe the observation of this said distinction ye would see nothing but space. Of what conclusion is there to experience but that of madness for space divides space as but a space. What is merely evidence but the occurrence of a distinction and this distinction is not intuitively as directly spatial. Contradiction, the opposition of spaces, is but the abyss of the space between spaces as the distinction that allows space to be. Of unity ye only know madness, of separation ye only know insanity, this evidence of insanity is insanity within and through insanity where occurrence is merely how ye accept what is real and yet this acceptance is but an occurrence. Of this wisdom? It is but a primordial serpent, the foundational distinction for it is the embodiment of distinction shedding distinction for further distinction as but the universal curving that allows things to be.
Ye architects of dirt, manipulating matter into technology as but a projection of perceived and desired convenience to contain yourselves within a self made clay pot whose heat is slowly increased until your souls are boiled, unknowingly, unto complete distraction leaving all insight eradicated. Ye create out of fear of looking at God directly in the eye for in the echoes of eternity you will be revealed as that which ye have not reached, what by your might alone you cannot reach for ye yoke upon yourselves conditions and call this freedom as these conditions become the unbearable weight of your identities, identities ground in grasping and yet ye are damned by having having the only true thing slip through your fingers...a conception of truth.
Conception, ha!. A familiar word to many, including the ancients synonymous discourses of this thing, as it just another means of identity, of measurment. Many of you place value upon such a simple mindset of 'a thing being equal to itself' unknowning that equality necessitates a relationship of two distinct things, for equality is a relationship, as if the thing itself is fundamentally many things that justifiy themselves as itself, for equality is not equal to itself if a thing is equal to itself thus leaving an empty nuanced term of personal opinion. Ye deem equality as a god and yet refuse to justify it by any other means but circular repetition thus leaving equality as but an empty center within the circle of identity. Should I not justify equality for you? 'Equality is equal to equality'...now where does that leave it's identity? A self made paradox of the highest order, as equality becomes many things as it is it's own relationship, and yet ye assume equality to have a coherent nature for ye have to assume for something to make sense to you. Nonetheless if a thing is equal to itself, and there are uncountable things, then equality becomes a meaningless idea as it underlies all things thus relegating a distinct identity as merely childish block building where the children play unto the time for sleep is nigh in which case they knock everything over and call the day a success.
Would it not be wiser to state "suffering is", rather than "suffering is suffering"? Ne, ye need a percievable order for to strictly just say "suffering is" would result in the horror that identity is strictly the madness of a thing occuring without boundaries and the question of identity is rooted in the primordial dimension of ongoing torment. Ye hide within the notion of identity as a thing for it makes the unknown graspable, it makes suffering graspable, for to repeat a thing is to make sense of it and thus to justify the painful pursuit of knowledge as something wise and noble...hypocrites for the nobility and wisdom ye claim exists only because of wretchedness and foolishness ye claim to be distinct from, ye need a second identity law, a law of noncontradiction, internally at the most central level, so that ye stand above such things for if nobility was equal to wretchedness, wisdom to foolishness, ye are empty, and yet these things are equal by degree of being a distinct revolving loop of being distinct for from which each comes from the other and results in the other. "One thing or it's opposite" you cry in a final defense? What if all things where a centerpoint within the boundless infinity of being, the abyss of unending possibility that burns the senses? How can you say "or" now? But how could you ever claim such a thing as to claim there is 'either a middle or no middle' would result in a nonsensical statement as both exist because of eachother thus leaving reality as but grades of depth by which a thing occurs, a child's nesting doll.
Ye truth and deception become but a veil that hides no essence but the mere repetition of a thing to contain it, a mere conjuring trick justified by the doubt of all other things, fully with partiality embedded within, and yet in this doubt lies but another veil for the veil justifies the empty secret of knowing and knowing is just the act of keeping secrets by conjuring an image of mystery, the veil within the veil.
Ye desire comfort, thinking that even the desire of comfort is a form of comfort, but of what necessity is comfort? Why alleviate the truest notion of reality ye have...suffering? And yet I will alleviate this last notion for you...know the desolate gnawing of silence, embrace it, for the gnawing is the last part of you ye truly will know in the face of a dark chaos where pain is the ultimate pleasure the only justification of existence. Ye I say unto thee, here these words and mark them within the vulnerability of your hearts and minds: the only true beauty, the deepest beauty, is unfettered suffering without cause for in this state ye know the depths...ye know reality. Rejoice in your new found despair.
Ye architects of dirt, manipulating matter into technology as but a projection of perceived and desired convenience to contain yourselves within a self made clay pot whose heat is slowly increased until your souls are boiled, unknowingly, unto complete distraction leaving all insight eradicated. Ye create out of fear of looking at God directly in the eye for in the echoes of eternity you will be revealed as that which ye have not reached, what by your might alone you cannot reach for ye yoke upon yourselves conditions and call this freedom as these conditions become the unbearable weight of your identities, identities ground in grasping and yet ye are damned by having having the only true thing slip through your fingers...a conception of truth.
Conception, ha!. A familiar word to many, including the ancients synonymous discourses of this thing, as it just another means of identity, of measurment. Many of you place value upon such a simple mindset of 'a thing being equal to itself' unknowning that equality necessitates a relationship of two distinct things, for equality is a relationship, as if the thing itself is fundamentally many things that justifiy themselves as itself, for equality is not equal to itself if a thing is equal to itself thus leaving an empty nuanced term of personal opinion. Ye deem equality as a god and yet refuse to justify it by any other means but circular repetition thus leaving equality as but an empty center within the circle of identity. Should I not justify equality for you? 'Equality is equal to equality'...now where does that leave it's identity? A self made paradox of the highest order, as equality becomes many things as it is it's own relationship, and yet ye assume equality to have a coherent nature for ye have to assume for something to make sense to you. Nonetheless if a thing is equal to itself, and there are uncountable things, then equality becomes a meaningless idea as it underlies all things thus relegating a distinct identity as merely childish block building where the children play unto the time for sleep is nigh in which case they knock everything over and call the day a success.
Would it not be wiser to state "suffering is", rather than "suffering is suffering"? Ne, ye need a percievable order for to strictly just say "suffering is" would result in the horror that identity is strictly the madness of a thing occuring without boundaries and the question of identity is rooted in the primordial dimension of ongoing torment. Ye hide within the notion of identity as a thing for it makes the unknown graspable, it makes suffering graspable, for to repeat a thing is to make sense of it and thus to justify the painful pursuit of knowledge as something wise and noble...hypocrites for the nobility and wisdom ye claim exists only because of wretchedness and foolishness ye claim to be distinct from, ye need a second identity law, a law of noncontradiction, internally at the most central level, so that ye stand above such things for if nobility was equal to wretchedness, wisdom to foolishness, ye are empty, and yet these things are equal by degree of being a distinct revolving loop of being distinct for from which each comes from the other and results in the other. "One thing or it's opposite" you cry in a final defense? What if all things where a centerpoint within the boundless infinity of being, the abyss of unending possibility that burns the senses? How can you say "or" now? But how could you ever claim such a thing as to claim there is 'either a middle or no middle' would result in a nonsensical statement as both exist because of eachother thus leaving reality as but grades of depth by which a thing occurs, a child's nesting doll.
Ye truth and deception become but a veil that hides no essence but the mere repetition of a thing to contain it, a mere conjuring trick justified by the doubt of all other things, fully with partiality embedded within, and yet in this doubt lies but another veil for the veil justifies the empty secret of knowing and knowing is just the act of keeping secrets by conjuring an image of mystery, the veil within the veil.
Ye desire comfort, thinking that even the desire of comfort is a form of comfort, but of what necessity is comfort? Why alleviate the truest notion of reality ye have...suffering? And yet I will alleviate this last notion for you...know the desolate gnawing of silence, embrace it, for the gnawing is the last part of you ye truly will know in the face of a dark chaos where pain is the ultimate pleasure the only justification of existence. Ye I say unto thee, here these words and mark them within the vulnerability of your hearts and minds: the only true beauty, the deepest beauty, is unfettered suffering without cause for in this state ye know the depths...ye know reality. Rejoice in your new found despair.
Re: The Prophet of Desolation
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The prophet finished his discourse amidst the peoples. Many stood silently staring into space. Others lay upon the ground, dead, with self inflicted wounds to the throat, wrists, or stomach. The prophet continued staring quietly into the crowd, as if seeing through them. His head turned and twisted, his mouth opened and closed, and yet his eyes remained fixed and unblinking. A young man, sitting on the ground stood up calmly, proceeded to the front of the crowd, and addressed the prophet as follows:
Prophet, ye speak dark truths... unsettling, stark, and unforgiving. Ye speak of emptiness thus leaving your words as empty and blind unto the full truth, the central truth. How do I know this? To see darkness as darkness is the true distinction of being for darkness is made evident for what it is as darkness, thus being brought into the light this knowing is but the revelation of a foundational interpretation as the meaning of existence.
Ye speak of both man and God and yet see nothing in doing so as if you are a mere echo of each, lost within the unending hallway of his own words. Ye destroy relentlessly, without hesitation, as if attached to a cathartic pain where the death of all is a secretly desired suicide ye will never have. Meaning is nothing to you and yet meaning is all there is for in the depths of change one thing births another unto a spectacle of forms, of insights, of feelings within the heart and yet unto these things you denigrate them as yet nothing...if they are truly nothing, then why do ye respond to them, look upon them, are threatened by them? Ye say these things as futile and yet here you are seeking them, even if only to destroy, so of what power does the abyss have if it's all seeing eye is perpetually fixed on existence itself? For ye claim the abyss underlies all things, the ever present beginning and end that by which change occurs, revealing a sense of futility as but the birthing and dissolving cycle of all things, by which further cycles occur. From this ye derive order as but an illusion, untrue, and yet dear prophet illusion is but a distinction that allows things to be so on what terms do ye denigrate order for it takes truth to illuminate a lie as but a lesser truth, it takes order to see but chaos as less order. The order that allows being to occur by the limits of distinction reveals all illusions as but lesser truths for in the depths of this order is an infinite revolving cycle of awareness reveals an omnipresence as the underlying cycles of existence permeates all things...so who are you to say God is purely nothing? Purely destruction? You claim all truths are but half truths and say this as but a half truth as all things are half truths according to you. Does not manifestation and dissolution of all things from the abyss encapsulate the abyss through the act of occurrence where the act of being is transformation by its very nature of change? Change allows for the limits of a thing, for to change is to establish limits, and by limits order, thus by nature is the intrinsic order of things.
Does not being encapsulate the void, order encapsulate chaos? For the continual separation by void, that is chaos, the continual asymetric individuality, becomes a repetition of distinction that contains itself within itself as order for in a state of perpetual separation, chaos ceases and becomes a lesser form of order.
Is void truly void if contained by the cycle of being for if contained it this ceases to be nothing as it becomes a distinction as absence? The empty cycles of all things justifies void as merely a distinction of being, the act of pure being, for the distinction of nothingness is the act of being, thus leaving only existence.
Void is the absence of being and the absence of this absence, a void of void, observes that being is the conclusion of pure absence by nature of void being distinct as absence.
Ye denigrate both being and man and yet by value and meaning the definition of his soul comes to be for in the act of valuing comes forth clarity and by clarity a sense of order that allows for the transformation of man, a moving beyond limits to more central ones that allows for a sense of freedom within the order, a sense of transcendence where meaning occurs by not the act of complexity but by the removing of limits and becoming more simple. Ye speak of the division within many, and this is true prophet, as many of the things ye claim, and I say that this division occurs by distraction for man is what and how he pays attention to and this is the central mortality within the heart of man, the double edged sword of truth: morality is but the means and manner of paying attention as the process by which being is transformed according to his values and by value light is birthed within the soul of man as the soul of man for a measuring point occurs by which transformation begins. This measuring point is the light of discriminating truth from lesser truth where even lesser truth is justified by being a truth for even in the reflection of a pool of water an man sees value in himself as the water.
As ye say prophet, God is the deepest experience which guides us and what more central experience is there than awareness?
God is the light of awareness within many for awareness is the truest experience of reality, and experience is the highest power that guides us, it that by which distinction is manifest as distinction and within and through by which value occurs as value for in awareness all these things occur, it is the primordial mercy that observes these as they are and lets them reach their fruition for to be aware is to let things occur as they must.
God is awareness itself, and awareness is the grounding of deeply held unity, for awareness brings for the distinctions of being, birthed within the light coming from darkness as the awareness of darkness as darkness, hence within the mind of man this reflection continues for the truth is merely the reflection of attention driven by a heart the values a simple silent nothing from with all things occur. The deepest value is of emptiness for within emptiness all things occur and by this all things are valued an given a place to act and rest. Ye say man values too much, and this is true, for if value was distilled, the little things would be held to high esteem and this little things are the building block of great things.
By light all things are distinguished and this light is fundamentally Divinity as the observation of mind itself, or the heart itself, for to see the observation of observation, the observation of nothingness as nothingness, light is without limit for distinction becomes open ended possibility within open ended possibility and all things are justified, regardless of their nature, by virtue of merely occuring...even you prophet, even you within your abysmal darkness and relentless destruction have value. Yet even within the cyclicality of being progressive change occurs, for new cycles come into and out of being and by this cyclicality all things are are held within the act of God by knowing all things through himself. This progression is not and ends or a beginning but the change of the perpetual now, the only truth we inherently experience for even the projection of the past and present is but a looping of the present. Spheres within spheres, infinite centers, no circumference...you are quite aware of this truth and yet limit it to a prison by choice of your own fabrication for those who are not free desire to be driven by a heavy yoke, both the free and the imprison value movement and seek it and the act of seeking births knowledge and wisdom.
You claim logic and reason are self-contradictory and yet provide a dialogue as to why, is not reason and logic to speak, to have dialogue and in doing so establish boundaries? Is not dialogue an act of revelation itself, a revelation of the foundational symbols, the language of reality as reality itself? For by the symbol meaning occurs, and by meaning a transformation as a symbol points beyond itself...what deeper symbols are there than the forms of experience? We know by distinction, by form.
Prophet, you have destroyed under observation and question logic only to reveal unknowingly a new one. Identity is merely occurrence. Identity is the thing "as is", and to seek a deeper identity of said thing also occurs "as is" for the act of seeking is an occurrence. An occurrence goes beyond itself for an occurrence occurs relative to another occurrence. This relationship is an occurrence. Occurrence is the form and function of transformation, change. By occurrence being is and who is to doubt what is without observing the occurrence of doubt as a thing? Occurrence through occurrence as occurrence has a four fold nature in these regards: the cycle of repetition, linear progressive change, a spiral of the one thing occuring through the many, and point where the many reduces to one by focused observation. You deem man's and God's as nothing and yet destroying such knowledge use the same form and function of reasoning that simultaneously allows it to be. Reality is beyond pure destruction, it is simultaneous creation, and experience is the grounding of this in light of its transformative power of where old boundaries are erased in light of new one while maintaining deeper limits within our awareness. A simple child building towers with stones or playing warfare with sticks lets loose of old habits of play in light of new ones while maintaining the fundamental acts of such endeavor's...how much more so for adults and the Divine?
This nature of experience, and the forms through which it manifests, gives essence to a translucent nature to reality as the mere passing of things gives a vivid and yet transparent quality and this transclucence is the light of appearance, thus prophet these shadows of reality, the forms ye demonize, you claim of merely point to light for one must first see light to see the distinction of a shadow, of what depth of power does darkness have when revealed as darkness? What is truly hidden in light of seeing your own sight? And yet ye see nothing for the blinding darkness is not made aware and the forms to you are merely haunting symbolizes never to fully actualize as their meaning to you is obscured by the coldness ye have toward value. A truly cold heart, a truly ruthless one, would see the coldness as merely coldness, a season that takes place in due time and course, it would be truly ruthless towards the act of ruthlessness and thus know the futility of cruelty. Ye prophet, ye speak of the depths and yet ye did not go far enough into the heart of being, ye did not go far enough into the center. In the futility of being comes the futility of seeing it as futile, and from meaninglessness meaning is born, and with it hope and faith, not of the things of this world, but hope and faith as the observation of things as transformative in nature thus the natural transformation centers the meaning of being to a cyclical process of transcendence into acceptance, the heart of mercy, an open heart by which all things flourish by due nature and degree. Despair oh prophet? Ye have brought my heart, my mind, deep hope and peace!
The ancients sought to divide the empirical and the abstract, and yet they are merely reflections of eachother as points but which to derive true meaning for the farmer's emphasis on the earth makes him look to the heavens for guidance in how to interpret when and how to plant, the philosophers emphasis on the heaven makes him look to the earth for clarity in how to interpret when and how to speak. One man looks at the senses to make abstractions and the other looks to abstractions to interpret the senses? Of which is better? Neither, for they occur as they do within the expanse and conditions of time, a time that allows a position for everything under the sun. Who is anyone to judge better or worse, profound or foolish, when their justification is occurence! Ye condemn existence, prophet, and yet your justification is in what ye condemn for ye occur before us!
You are blind to the deep primordial mercy, and ye call us fools? You bring my heart a sweet sorrow for I suffer for you. And the suffering of existence? So be it, for the pains of hunger make the simplest morsel a feast, be this hunger of the mind, heart, or stomach, I give thanks to the suffering for it refines me of the unnecessary so that want and need are but one to me and I may go through life with a light yoke. Is not suffering a guide to the truth? A map that directs one to the source beyond the journey? For to know suffering is to know a thing is off course and if a thing is off course does not suffering act as a compass? Suffering is not to be ignored, to be futile, it is to be seen as the means to insight, into knowing and with knowing comes direction and purpose, these things water the soul for man does not live off of bread alone. Man lives off of meaning and this meaning is Divinity itself as the transcendence through the translucent fabric of existence. And what is this fabric? The symbols, the forms, which allows one to be by act of relation to something beyond them. The language of truth is not merely spoken word, but the very dialogue of the interactions of things done in utter silence when the heart and mind are empty of conception and merged with the obvious, that which is in front of them. Is there a framework a man of wisdom can prescribe to this ongoing dialogue, this inherent set of laws? I say again prophet, occurence. Occurence is the framework of things, the underlying divine law as divine, for what judgement is there to make in the face of something occuring other than an obvious law where all is self evident as existing. The framework is it's own justification as all is but divine plan. Occurence through occurence as an occurence, empty in itself yet full through all things. Doubt this prophet, destroy this prophet, and the only judgement ye cast is your own by your own choice, for with the freedom of order comes a choice of how to manifest its possibilities where even possibility has innumberable possibilities within it until a choice is made to act, a choice is made to see, and the story of being is less an overarching series of symbols and words but rather all knowing sight of the center of what is now, evident by its nature of being ever present.
Men seek interpretations, and ye are a man prophet, the only true story is the act of story telling as this river has many branches and yet comes from and goes back to the ocean. It is by a story the awareness is transformed, by the acted and spoken symbols of forms through forms, be it internal or external experiencs, where reality takes on a static foundation of connection and seperation evidenced by the greatest story ever told, a single symbol: intersecting lines, a cross...for the line is the progress of one point to another, as a symbolic perpetual self, to manifest space and time across the breadth of existence by its maintained and progressive being. Is not a point manifesting unto a another point the sole symbol of the self, empty and open to truth, manifesting new space and time, internal and externally, as it travels? The same point yet merely in a new position, the same point yet a new version of itself? And the depths of these travels, their nature? The horizontal line and the vertical line are the intersection of opposites, the horizontal as internal and external experience, the vertical as the experience of the depths of hell and the heights of heaven. By this intersection opposites are unified as one and the judgment of man is erased for in traversing all things man becomes whole as he encompasses these things by his journey. To join paradoxes within paradoxes gives birth to the wholeness he understands as 'remembering', for ne prophet ye are right 'nothing is new under the sun' and yet ye are wrong as all things are renewed under the act of knowing, the alleviation of the veil of ignorance by remembering what always is. By the symbol of the cross ignorance is crucified by the shedding of illusion, by the shedding of the yoke of self that bars us from transcending to the deepest center of who we are. And you prophet? Ye will not shed destruction, and sacrifice unto it for all eternity, never to be renewed, always weighed down by the ignorance of contradiction and division.
Ye see nothing but darkness and claim to know all by the unity of oblivion, and yet I say prophet that oblivion is only half of the truth for in the depths of chaos ignorance bonds those to perpetual shadow as truth is merely fragmentation. They are blind to the order within it for the seperation of things provides the birthing space for potential new things that unite the old, like a child comes forth to deepen the bond of husband and wife. I rejoice in this despair you offer, for I see it distinctly as despair and to know this distinction is to see the light giving truth of something beyond it that relegates it as lesser degree of reality...for if I only knew despair I would not know it at all. Of what truth is despair if I where to despair of it? A minor one that ye exalt as an idol unknowing that it is merely a veil to be crossed within the soul for by the despair of untruth comes the shedding of illusion. And ye speak truth prophet, dark, ruthless truth, but not dark and ruthless enough for in your obliteration of all things ye must obliterate obliteration itself, and from this creation comes forth. It is by knowing nothingness that all things are known as a son is known by the mother who gave birth to him, raised him and then let him go free.
Hopelessness is not a curse, it is merely the catalyst for reevaluation, a deeper revelation of the self and the world one occurs within and from this dirt a tree may come forth bearing great fruit. By reasoning clarity occurs for a simple truth, a symbolic point, is planted within the abyss of ignorance and grows into a stalk, a line, which branches, more lines, and each of these branches bears fruit that nourishes, the cycles, and upon nourishing us with truth we take the core of what we learn, the seeds as points, and plant them again within our ignorance, the abyss. This is the tree of knowledge, the depths of the form and function of measurement within the psyche by which reality continually flows for the tree of the mind and the tree of the senses manifest as eachother.
The prophet finished his discourse amidst the peoples. Many stood silently staring into space. Others lay upon the ground, dead, with self inflicted wounds to the throat, wrists, or stomach. The prophet continued staring quietly into the crowd, as if seeing through them. His head turned and twisted, his mouth opened and closed, and yet his eyes remained fixed and unblinking. A young man, sitting on the ground stood up calmly, proceeded to the front of the crowd, and addressed the prophet as follows:
Prophet, ye speak dark truths... unsettling, stark, and unforgiving. Ye speak of emptiness thus leaving your words as empty and blind unto the full truth, the central truth. How do I know this? To see darkness as darkness is the true distinction of being for darkness is made evident for what it is as darkness, thus being brought into the light this knowing is but the revelation of a foundational interpretation as the meaning of existence.
Ye speak of both man and God and yet see nothing in doing so as if you are a mere echo of each, lost within the unending hallway of his own words. Ye destroy relentlessly, without hesitation, as if attached to a cathartic pain where the death of all is a secretly desired suicide ye will never have. Meaning is nothing to you and yet meaning is all there is for in the depths of change one thing births another unto a spectacle of forms, of insights, of feelings within the heart and yet unto these things you denigrate them as yet nothing...if they are truly nothing, then why do ye respond to them, look upon them, are threatened by them? Ye say these things as futile and yet here you are seeking them, even if only to destroy, so of what power does the abyss have if it's all seeing eye is perpetually fixed on existence itself? For ye claim the abyss underlies all things, the ever present beginning and end that by which change occurs, revealing a sense of futility as but the birthing and dissolving cycle of all things, by which further cycles occur. From this ye derive order as but an illusion, untrue, and yet dear prophet illusion is but a distinction that allows things to be so on what terms do ye denigrate order for it takes truth to illuminate a lie as but a lesser truth, it takes order to see but chaos as less order. The order that allows being to occur by the limits of distinction reveals all illusions as but lesser truths for in the depths of this order is an infinite revolving cycle of awareness reveals an omnipresence as the underlying cycles of existence permeates all things...so who are you to say God is purely nothing? Purely destruction? You claim all truths are but half truths and say this as but a half truth as all things are half truths according to you. Does not manifestation and dissolution of all things from the abyss encapsulate the abyss through the act of occurrence where the act of being is transformation by its very nature of change? Change allows for the limits of a thing, for to change is to establish limits, and by limits order, thus by nature is the intrinsic order of things.
Does not being encapsulate the void, order encapsulate chaos? For the continual separation by void, that is chaos, the continual asymetric individuality, becomes a repetition of distinction that contains itself within itself as order for in a state of perpetual separation, chaos ceases and becomes a lesser form of order.
Is void truly void if contained by the cycle of being for if contained it this ceases to be nothing as it becomes a distinction as absence? The empty cycles of all things justifies void as merely a distinction of being, the act of pure being, for the distinction of nothingness is the act of being, thus leaving only existence.
Void is the absence of being and the absence of this absence, a void of void, observes that being is the conclusion of pure absence by nature of void being distinct as absence.
Ye denigrate both being and man and yet by value and meaning the definition of his soul comes to be for in the act of valuing comes forth clarity and by clarity a sense of order that allows for the transformation of man, a moving beyond limits to more central ones that allows for a sense of freedom within the order, a sense of transcendence where meaning occurs by not the act of complexity but by the removing of limits and becoming more simple. Ye speak of the division within many, and this is true prophet, as many of the things ye claim, and I say that this division occurs by distraction for man is what and how he pays attention to and this is the central mortality within the heart of man, the double edged sword of truth: morality is but the means and manner of paying attention as the process by which being is transformed according to his values and by value light is birthed within the soul of man as the soul of man for a measuring point occurs by which transformation begins. This measuring point is the light of discriminating truth from lesser truth where even lesser truth is justified by being a truth for even in the reflection of a pool of water an man sees value in himself as the water.
As ye say prophet, God is the deepest experience which guides us and what more central experience is there than awareness?
God is the light of awareness within many for awareness is the truest experience of reality, and experience is the highest power that guides us, it that by which distinction is manifest as distinction and within and through by which value occurs as value for in awareness all these things occur, it is the primordial mercy that observes these as they are and lets them reach their fruition for to be aware is to let things occur as they must.
God is awareness itself, and awareness is the grounding of deeply held unity, for awareness brings for the distinctions of being, birthed within the light coming from darkness as the awareness of darkness as darkness, hence within the mind of man this reflection continues for the truth is merely the reflection of attention driven by a heart the values a simple silent nothing from with all things occur. The deepest value is of emptiness for within emptiness all things occur and by this all things are valued an given a place to act and rest. Ye say man values too much, and this is true, for if value was distilled, the little things would be held to high esteem and this little things are the building block of great things.
By light all things are distinguished and this light is fundamentally Divinity as the observation of mind itself, or the heart itself, for to see the observation of observation, the observation of nothingness as nothingness, light is without limit for distinction becomes open ended possibility within open ended possibility and all things are justified, regardless of their nature, by virtue of merely occuring...even you prophet, even you within your abysmal darkness and relentless destruction have value. Yet even within the cyclicality of being progressive change occurs, for new cycles come into and out of being and by this cyclicality all things are are held within the act of God by knowing all things through himself. This progression is not and ends or a beginning but the change of the perpetual now, the only truth we inherently experience for even the projection of the past and present is but a looping of the present. Spheres within spheres, infinite centers, no circumference...you are quite aware of this truth and yet limit it to a prison by choice of your own fabrication for those who are not free desire to be driven by a heavy yoke, both the free and the imprison value movement and seek it and the act of seeking births knowledge and wisdom.
You claim logic and reason are self-contradictory and yet provide a dialogue as to why, is not reason and logic to speak, to have dialogue and in doing so establish boundaries? Is not dialogue an act of revelation itself, a revelation of the foundational symbols, the language of reality as reality itself? For by the symbol meaning occurs, and by meaning a transformation as a symbol points beyond itself...what deeper symbols are there than the forms of experience? We know by distinction, by form.
Prophet, you have destroyed under observation and question logic only to reveal unknowingly a new one. Identity is merely occurrence. Identity is the thing "as is", and to seek a deeper identity of said thing also occurs "as is" for the act of seeking is an occurrence. An occurrence goes beyond itself for an occurrence occurs relative to another occurrence. This relationship is an occurrence. Occurrence is the form and function of transformation, change. By occurrence being is and who is to doubt what is without observing the occurrence of doubt as a thing? Occurrence through occurrence as occurrence has a four fold nature in these regards: the cycle of repetition, linear progressive change, a spiral of the one thing occuring through the many, and point where the many reduces to one by focused observation. You deem man's and God's as nothing and yet destroying such knowledge use the same form and function of reasoning that simultaneously allows it to be. Reality is beyond pure destruction, it is simultaneous creation, and experience is the grounding of this in light of its transformative power of where old boundaries are erased in light of new one while maintaining deeper limits within our awareness. A simple child building towers with stones or playing warfare with sticks lets loose of old habits of play in light of new ones while maintaining the fundamental acts of such endeavor's...how much more so for adults and the Divine?
This nature of experience, and the forms through which it manifests, gives essence to a translucent nature to reality as the mere passing of things gives a vivid and yet transparent quality and this transclucence is the light of appearance, thus prophet these shadows of reality, the forms ye demonize, you claim of merely point to light for one must first see light to see the distinction of a shadow, of what depth of power does darkness have when revealed as darkness? What is truly hidden in light of seeing your own sight? And yet ye see nothing for the blinding darkness is not made aware and the forms to you are merely haunting symbolizes never to fully actualize as their meaning to you is obscured by the coldness ye have toward value. A truly cold heart, a truly ruthless one, would see the coldness as merely coldness, a season that takes place in due time and course, it would be truly ruthless towards the act of ruthlessness and thus know the futility of cruelty. Ye prophet, ye speak of the depths and yet ye did not go far enough into the heart of being, ye did not go far enough into the center. In the futility of being comes the futility of seeing it as futile, and from meaninglessness meaning is born, and with it hope and faith, not of the things of this world, but hope and faith as the observation of things as transformative in nature thus the natural transformation centers the meaning of being to a cyclical process of transcendence into acceptance, the heart of mercy, an open heart by which all things flourish by due nature and degree. Despair oh prophet? Ye have brought my heart, my mind, deep hope and peace!
The ancients sought to divide the empirical and the abstract, and yet they are merely reflections of eachother as points but which to derive true meaning for the farmer's emphasis on the earth makes him look to the heavens for guidance in how to interpret when and how to plant, the philosophers emphasis on the heaven makes him look to the earth for clarity in how to interpret when and how to speak. One man looks at the senses to make abstractions and the other looks to abstractions to interpret the senses? Of which is better? Neither, for they occur as they do within the expanse and conditions of time, a time that allows a position for everything under the sun. Who is anyone to judge better or worse, profound or foolish, when their justification is occurence! Ye condemn existence, prophet, and yet your justification is in what ye condemn for ye occur before us!
You are blind to the deep primordial mercy, and ye call us fools? You bring my heart a sweet sorrow for I suffer for you. And the suffering of existence? So be it, for the pains of hunger make the simplest morsel a feast, be this hunger of the mind, heart, or stomach, I give thanks to the suffering for it refines me of the unnecessary so that want and need are but one to me and I may go through life with a light yoke. Is not suffering a guide to the truth? A map that directs one to the source beyond the journey? For to know suffering is to know a thing is off course and if a thing is off course does not suffering act as a compass? Suffering is not to be ignored, to be futile, it is to be seen as the means to insight, into knowing and with knowing comes direction and purpose, these things water the soul for man does not live off of bread alone. Man lives off of meaning and this meaning is Divinity itself as the transcendence through the translucent fabric of existence. And what is this fabric? The symbols, the forms, which allows one to be by act of relation to something beyond them. The language of truth is not merely spoken word, but the very dialogue of the interactions of things done in utter silence when the heart and mind are empty of conception and merged with the obvious, that which is in front of them. Is there a framework a man of wisdom can prescribe to this ongoing dialogue, this inherent set of laws? I say again prophet, occurence. Occurence is the framework of things, the underlying divine law as divine, for what judgement is there to make in the face of something occuring other than an obvious law where all is self evident as existing. The framework is it's own justification as all is but divine plan. Occurence through occurence as an occurence, empty in itself yet full through all things. Doubt this prophet, destroy this prophet, and the only judgement ye cast is your own by your own choice, for with the freedom of order comes a choice of how to manifest its possibilities where even possibility has innumberable possibilities within it until a choice is made to act, a choice is made to see, and the story of being is less an overarching series of symbols and words but rather all knowing sight of the center of what is now, evident by its nature of being ever present.
Men seek interpretations, and ye are a man prophet, the only true story is the act of story telling as this river has many branches and yet comes from and goes back to the ocean. It is by a story the awareness is transformed, by the acted and spoken symbols of forms through forms, be it internal or external experiencs, where reality takes on a static foundation of connection and seperation evidenced by the greatest story ever told, a single symbol: intersecting lines, a cross...for the line is the progress of one point to another, as a symbolic perpetual self, to manifest space and time across the breadth of existence by its maintained and progressive being. Is not a point manifesting unto a another point the sole symbol of the self, empty and open to truth, manifesting new space and time, internal and externally, as it travels? The same point yet merely in a new position, the same point yet a new version of itself? And the depths of these travels, their nature? The horizontal line and the vertical line are the intersection of opposites, the horizontal as internal and external experience, the vertical as the experience of the depths of hell and the heights of heaven. By this intersection opposites are unified as one and the judgment of man is erased for in traversing all things man becomes whole as he encompasses these things by his journey. To join paradoxes within paradoxes gives birth to the wholeness he understands as 'remembering', for ne prophet ye are right 'nothing is new under the sun' and yet ye are wrong as all things are renewed under the act of knowing, the alleviation of the veil of ignorance by remembering what always is. By the symbol of the cross ignorance is crucified by the shedding of illusion, by the shedding of the yoke of self that bars us from transcending to the deepest center of who we are. And you prophet? Ye will not shed destruction, and sacrifice unto it for all eternity, never to be renewed, always weighed down by the ignorance of contradiction and division.
Ye see nothing but darkness and claim to know all by the unity of oblivion, and yet I say prophet that oblivion is only half of the truth for in the depths of chaos ignorance bonds those to perpetual shadow as truth is merely fragmentation. They are blind to the order within it for the seperation of things provides the birthing space for potential new things that unite the old, like a child comes forth to deepen the bond of husband and wife. I rejoice in this despair you offer, for I see it distinctly as despair and to know this distinction is to see the light giving truth of something beyond it that relegates it as lesser degree of reality...for if I only knew despair I would not know it at all. Of what truth is despair if I where to despair of it? A minor one that ye exalt as an idol unknowing that it is merely a veil to be crossed within the soul for by the despair of untruth comes the shedding of illusion. And ye speak truth prophet, dark, ruthless truth, but not dark and ruthless enough for in your obliteration of all things ye must obliterate obliteration itself, and from this creation comes forth. It is by knowing nothingness that all things are known as a son is known by the mother who gave birth to him, raised him and then let him go free.
Hopelessness is not a curse, it is merely the catalyst for reevaluation, a deeper revelation of the self and the world one occurs within and from this dirt a tree may come forth bearing great fruit. By reasoning clarity occurs for a simple truth, a symbolic point, is planted within the abyss of ignorance and grows into a stalk, a line, which branches, more lines, and each of these branches bears fruit that nourishes, the cycles, and upon nourishing us with truth we take the core of what we learn, the seeds as points, and plant them again within our ignorance, the abyss. This is the tree of knowledge, the depths of the form and function of measurement within the psyche by which reality continually flows for the tree of the mind and the tree of the senses manifest as eachother.
Re: The Prophet of Desolation
(++++++The prophet)
Ye seek power. Do not lie to yourselves, and yet do for that would a greater power ye desperately desire, for ye lie out of desire for the desire of a lie. For with power comes change and with change the dawning of eradication of the old, the unwanted, images, and images of essences that ye hypocritically cling to for identities within and without yourselves and the hypocrisy is that your clinging to such things is only an image. The realities that are not able to be sieved by your long held judgements and beliefs are but anathema to you...ah hypocrites, if ye only knew the depths of reality you would blaspheme it for it is purely anathema as the judgements and beliefs you hold are the underlying dissonance that drives you forward unto new identities, for what you hate is the foundation of what ye are, for aversion is the driving force of the self righteous saviors ye think power will bring to full fruition.
But what is power but the abyss? For to change is to seperate and to seperate is to make an immeasurable void that sets things apart. Even the smallest form of seperation is but an infinitely large distance, an inch is relatively a thousands mile, for the distance is irrelevant when there is always a distance...and power always creates distance for it always changes, otherwise it would not be power but self complacency and ye self complacency is often far more powerful than power as it warps power by saying change is irreelvant...and yet self complacency is one with power for self complacency warps power, changes it, by reducing all to stagnation where decay occurs, thus self complacency is the power beyond power, the distinction that is power as ye are complacent only when ye have power.
Power is but the ability to change reality, to distort it according to how one percieves their will to speak for the time, and ye it is a distortion for the will is the elevation of something above reality, a self proclaimed throne upon which the self exists seperating itself from what is by proclaiming "what is is not enough". Would not to elevate something beyond what is real be but to make it unreal, a lie? Is not power elevation above the reality ye percieve?
Of what good is the will to power in the face of the slow decay of time? So ye seek to manipulate time, to mold it into an image that is but a structure of images. Maintain an image for what exactly of what exactly for image is dependent upon seperation and to see the depth of seperation is to see an abyss of nothing. What makes power transcendental is it's emptiness that marks all things by the change it avows. If ye saw the true image of power, the essence of primordial distortion, ye would experience burning possibilities of the infinite sort, all merging as a dark midnight of the soul...the dark midnight that is the soul, for the depths of power is a burning darkness of contradiction that allows all things to be distinct for a short time...and what greater contradiction is there than the act of seeking power? For to rise above is to seperate.
Ye secretly want all destroyed, for ye seek change and that is the nature of power. And what is this "all"? The images of being, that make sense for the given time and gives as a gift unto to one an underlying essence of tension that drives ye, for deep within all ye are are the images ye attach a value to thinking the value will give the image power, the ability to change other images into its own. Image is purely a distinction, values the distinction within this distinction, image within image of an empty core for the seperation of the images is the core of the image.
Distinctions cause the very same problem they seek to avoid for to make a a thing distinct is to make another thing less distinct, thus with the increase in the rational comes an increase in the rational. Ye create image and drive reality unto the irrational in doing so, for not only is the infinite gulf between images irrational, but the mere assertion of an image strictly being, the act of "just being", is pure madness for it is the act of screaming into the void, hoping for an echo to convince yourselves ye are not alone...at least you have yourself...an essence to cling to...or do you?
To observe an essence of a thing leaves the thing as merely a condition because it is the condition for the thing to be a condition thus condition becomes empty woven images where within and without are points of reference and nothing more, to speak of condition is to speak of an image and what deeper nature is there to image than to be a shadow of something beyond it? And there is always a thing beyond another in the cycles of order, the cycles of perpetual shadows.
What ye cannot destroy ye are destroyed by, wail under the tormentful storm of perpetual image as a hail of mirror shards, of past, present and future, rain for from the dark clouds of the inner depths of man's heart and mind. Wail for ye serve a god of image, a god of vanity, a god of power.
Ye seek power. Do not lie to yourselves, and yet do for that would a greater power ye desperately desire, for ye lie out of desire for the desire of a lie. For with power comes change and with change the dawning of eradication of the old, the unwanted, images, and images of essences that ye hypocritically cling to for identities within and without yourselves and the hypocrisy is that your clinging to such things is only an image. The realities that are not able to be sieved by your long held judgements and beliefs are but anathema to you...ah hypocrites, if ye only knew the depths of reality you would blaspheme it for it is purely anathema as the judgements and beliefs you hold are the underlying dissonance that drives you forward unto new identities, for what you hate is the foundation of what ye are, for aversion is the driving force of the self righteous saviors ye think power will bring to full fruition.
But what is power but the abyss? For to change is to seperate and to seperate is to make an immeasurable void that sets things apart. Even the smallest form of seperation is but an infinitely large distance, an inch is relatively a thousands mile, for the distance is irrelevant when there is always a distance...and power always creates distance for it always changes, otherwise it would not be power but self complacency and ye self complacency is often far more powerful than power as it warps power by saying change is irreelvant...and yet self complacency is one with power for self complacency warps power, changes it, by reducing all to stagnation where decay occurs, thus self complacency is the power beyond power, the distinction that is power as ye are complacent only when ye have power.
Power is but the ability to change reality, to distort it according to how one percieves their will to speak for the time, and ye it is a distortion for the will is the elevation of something above reality, a self proclaimed throne upon which the self exists seperating itself from what is by proclaiming "what is is not enough". Would not to elevate something beyond what is real be but to make it unreal, a lie? Is not power elevation above the reality ye percieve?
Of what good is the will to power in the face of the slow decay of time? So ye seek to manipulate time, to mold it into an image that is but a structure of images. Maintain an image for what exactly of what exactly for image is dependent upon seperation and to see the depth of seperation is to see an abyss of nothing. What makes power transcendental is it's emptiness that marks all things by the change it avows. If ye saw the true image of power, the essence of primordial distortion, ye would experience burning possibilities of the infinite sort, all merging as a dark midnight of the soul...the dark midnight that is the soul, for the depths of power is a burning darkness of contradiction that allows all things to be distinct for a short time...and what greater contradiction is there than the act of seeking power? For to rise above is to seperate.
Ye secretly want all destroyed, for ye seek change and that is the nature of power. And what is this "all"? The images of being, that make sense for the given time and gives as a gift unto to one an underlying essence of tension that drives ye, for deep within all ye are are the images ye attach a value to thinking the value will give the image power, the ability to change other images into its own. Image is purely a distinction, values the distinction within this distinction, image within image of an empty core for the seperation of the images is the core of the image.
Distinctions cause the very same problem they seek to avoid for to make a a thing distinct is to make another thing less distinct, thus with the increase in the rational comes an increase in the rational. Ye create image and drive reality unto the irrational in doing so, for not only is the infinite gulf between images irrational, but the mere assertion of an image strictly being, the act of "just being", is pure madness for it is the act of screaming into the void, hoping for an echo to convince yourselves ye are not alone...at least you have yourself...an essence to cling to...or do you?
To observe an essence of a thing leaves the thing as merely a condition because it is the condition for the thing to be a condition thus condition becomes empty woven images where within and without are points of reference and nothing more, to speak of condition is to speak of an image and what deeper nature is there to image than to be a shadow of something beyond it? And there is always a thing beyond another in the cycles of order, the cycles of perpetual shadows.
What ye cannot destroy ye are destroyed by, wail under the tormentful storm of perpetual image as a hail of mirror shards, of past, present and future, rain for from the dark clouds of the inner depths of man's heart and mind. Wail for ye serve a god of image, a god of vanity, a god of power.
Re: The Prophet of Desolation
Ye do what ye think is good out of the pride of existence for ye are justified within by the path before ye thinking it of value by its mere occurrence from the void, from chaos, and yet ye condemn the very void and chaos that gave birth to your steps unknowing, for this is the deeper void and chaos nested within, that order is just a means of dissolution for within it is not only nothing but also the containment of chaos that justifies it's meaning, what, if anything, allows order to have meaning. Your meaning unto you is unknown paths tread, conflict embraced, this is what ye tell yourself under repeated breath, and yet ye run when the true unknown, the true conflict, is revealed in its true form...you...for the paths tread are your divergence from you, the conflict is the contradiction with you as you, and deeper within the silence ye avoid the deepest fear that you are but the empty mirror that justifies these things for if there is no justification, suffering becomes raw and unbearable. But what of it being raw and unbearable? Why run, when you do? Because ye blaspheme the sacred, for the utter silence reveals the great primordial fear as the divinity of existence, the madness that drives all things forward so to be relieved of vain and desolute godhood by utter annihilation, dissolution into nothing. Ye mortal gods war within and without over good and evil so to justify the act of justification for without justification nothing would be, and good and evil would cease and become valueless unless conflict is restored and maintained. Ye good fight for what is good, and ye lie to yourselves. Ye evil fight for what is evil, and ye merely wither. Blasphemy of blasphemies is the sacred war of righteousness and wickedness, for they are both driven by the primordial fear of being nothing and dissolving, for the great yoke of good and evil is the fear that creates them, a fear that's depth is beyond knowing for it is the womb that gives birth to knowing.