Philosophy Now Forum

What differs the heights of ecstasy from the depths of pain when all grunt and scream upon the act of penetration, be it murder or love? Is not the act of screaming mere self affirmation within the unknown, a self made tale to justify insanity through mere syllables? Is there a difference to this insanity, a ladder of steps for the insane who climb them? By penetration of blade or phallis, pure image to all but the blind, does reality manifest itself as a revelation of emptiness, or the desire to run from it, as what was once whole reveals itself of hidden want, of a hidden absence.

What ye call hate and love are merely the forcing of an image, the piercing of another by and through image for ye are image, of what ye need of another so that you can claim to be you in its fullest form, regardless of the effect it has on this other, for hate and love at their core are but the siphoning of another's life in exchange for a mirrored reflection of what ye need by way of distortion...it is the fundamental act of dominance, the rotating wheel of the universal power struggle that gives an image of purpose, an image of glory by act of transcendence beyond what was once known, whose sheer display enables a hypnotic trance to end the pain of life for the moment...and only a moment is needed, for an echo to exists within the void within as memory and imagination, that resonates a voice that cries "purpose existed here once, yea will it do the mercy of a return?". Ye seek to elevate yourselves with love or hate: of those who follow love ye half yourselves for the other so they may become you, of those who follow hate ye half others so that they may become you. This halving is but the ancient image of finding reason to things, the shepherds staff that seeks to protect the sheep of your own percieved innocence, the architects rod to maintain a balanced building, a parent's rod so to discipline their children...but regardless of its use at the end love and hate are but a simple line, a distinguishment of a moment in time and space under the mantra "it all makes sense"...for to seperate oneself is to penetrate others as an unwhole self is given to distort the conditions of their existence and to seperate others as unwhole is to penetrate oneself as ye divide your conditions of who ye are. And yea, ye seek wholeness and it is but conditionality ye yoke upon all things in doing so.

For do ye know not that love and hate are but of the same nature? That both are merely expressions of power, expression of identity, so that within the insanity something may be deemed as rational by way of a percieved relationship? In your judgements of such things, as the thing itself for it is the judgement made manifest, ye rape reality with a sharp knife and call it "knowing" and from this "knowing" ye claim an intimicacy with yourself unknowing that who you are has been bled dry and the transcendence is confused for a delirium. This relationship is nought but a condition ye serve, a vain image, for the depths of being exerts no image is necessary for truth, no image is needed, and yet ye cry out "Where are my shackles? Where are my shackles? I have lost them, someone help me find them! I need by shackles!" For ye seek to bind by knowing, for by knowing ye control, and the depth of knowing is purely an exhibition of vain power ye justify with whatever values ye seek to attach to it so to give direction to the souls that follow such course.

The path of knowledge is but a shackle, and with these shackles comes a yoke of value ye place out of enamor for the complexity of things for deep within ye claim with enough complexity comes a shield from the abyss...a fortress of but one wall with many walls behind it so to block what ye know is in front of you. Ye hypocrites, one wall to protect against the underlying abyss that surrounds all the notions ye have? Petty children, ye have not learned how to truly play from the adults have you?

Block upon block, stone upon stone, ye build your reasons for things, reasons for you to be you. Ye, I say, a thing repeated is a thing believed, on this account what notion do ye have to distinguish truth from falsity? If ye where to determine a notion it would have to be justified by belief for justification is merely the repetition of belief, the reoccurrence of belief. Ye know order by symmetry, symmetry by repetition, ye claim truth is order and yet the lies ye seek to extinguish are highly order as well. Order is both truth and lie, under these terms, these conditions, these respects and hence who are ye to determine anything without the force of belief to maintain the reoccurrence of what ye value for the time? And what is belief but the act of reason for a repeated belief is a sense of order and a sense of order is rational. Ye children, you claim to know and yet what ye know is justified belief, a belief within a belief as but a forcing of what ye want into reality thus leaving your empty premises as but an empty hole of desire for how ye imagine things should be according to your desires. Truth, lie, these things are but acts of desire and ye build upon a foundation ye wish was never there as if the structure upon sifting sands would cause the sands to stop shifting so ye can build upon them. Your reality, your experience, your truth and your lie are mere repetitions, mere distinctions within distinctions...believe a thing enough and it will be repeated or repeat a thing enough and it will be believed, is there any middle ground other than the ever present fork in the road of "or"? Ye have power because ye repeat assertions until they are believed and when they are believed power occurs for a structure of perception comes forth that altars reality and how one perceived and what one perceived creates the perpetual hierarchy that enables your slavery, the low believe the assertions of the high and the high believe their assertions will be believed by the low. To merely repeat something enough gives it value for time was sacrificed and value instilled by this sacrifice, thus my children ye deeply value lies and will do anything to uphold them for time was spent, time was sieved, by the mere reoccurrence of assertions that created an impenetrable sphere of belief to hide the empty center within. Ye are what ye repeat and the power dynamics of what ye serve are merely repetition derived from your ability to communicate symbols that alter your minds and hearts, the value is the irrational quality of this repetition. Weep children of perdition for your derived power is but a cycle going now where, containing nothing for deep within your minds, in the blood that contains the wisdom of ancestral ancients, ye know all is a cycle and yet run from it...as they have.

What greater power does man possess than the ability to influence the heart? To determine what is loved and what is hated? For by the heart distinctions are made and structures containing the abyss flow forth, yet in these depths a subtle silence questions such values for the mere occurrence of power, the mere occurrence of love and hate, are revealed for what they are: mere occurrence. And yet in this vanity ye hold fast to story telling for the story is the language that gives birth to the forms of reality and how ye are to form them. Yea, ye value the heart as but an image, for an image it is, for within it lies what ye call the perdition of nothing, the abomination of desolation that distorts what is for an imaginary vision of what could be for deep within ye know nothing is ever enough and ye tell truths and lies to mask this primordial knowledge.

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Is not "truth" but the envy of power for to speak truth is to negate the illusion of power of those above ye by diminishing them to your level by observing the obvious, for within the act of diminishing all things are brought to equality and with equality there is no excellence and with no excellence no greater than or less than...and hence no envy and yet without envy there is no truth for envy is the desire for knowledge and with knowledge power that ye do not have. Ye hypocrites the pursuit of truth to ye is merely raw envy for to grasp what is beyond you is to say to the beyond "I wish I was you for I despise myself because of you, I despise ye for ye hold yourself and me and I cannot even hold my own being without being crushed by the unbearable weight". Your deep driven envy is but an acknowledgement of slavery to the beyond and ye think holding truth will alleviate ye of your bonds unknowing that to hold the truth is your bonds. Ye fly into the heavens in your minds to see only for your own sight to burn away your wings and cast ye unto the dreaded abyss for in knowing ye see that your sight was responsible all along and this responsibility is weight that casts ye to the depths of hell for your own sight is the all consuming fire that burns away the illusion ye even had the wings to ascend.

Your tales of rising and falling are but an expression of how you care so deeply of what others think of you, your reputation, so that ye can tell yourselves of who ye are for ye fear the unknown within and without and need a barrier against it, a barrier of but a spoken word, a symbolic thought within a symbolic thought and yet ye fail to see the symbolism of the perpetual rise and fall as but you being cycles within the cycle of mankind. Others rush to tell others who the other is so as to hold a thing that makes sense, a desperate effort to claim understanding, and what makes sense is control of others by confining them to interpretation for understanding to you is the sharp judgemental axe that lays all bare...this is knowledge.

Ye seek knowledge for power, yea I speak familar words, but what is not familar to you is true power for those who possess do not seek and ye are proud of the perpetual journey unknowing the road ye travel is not of your control and yet ye speak of knowing as if knowing is known to you, ye powerless cattle your journey for knowledge is but a herding unto the butcher to your self proclaimed truths unknowing the judgement and distinction ye sharpen is but a two edged sword that cuts all including the wielder.

What ye know is merely interpretation and what interpretation is is divergence from the original assertion, truth to ye is but the decay of prophets and leaders. All diverges by way of mediation and this divergence is but the hiding of contradiction under the term "mystery". Mutual agreement to you is but a bastard child used to force fornicators to marry. Ye take pride in your novel truths, novel interpretations, novel stories and within this pride is a resentment of your foundations that allowed you to achieve it for in always seeking the new ye condemn the old as not enough, never enough. Novelty to use is your deep truth and your deep truths are merely general symbols, general words, that are open to so many interpretations they mean nothing, their simplicity is but a mirror that reflects back at those who look at it and yet when these mirrors look upon themselves there is nothing. The power of your truths is merely of shadow for the unknown guides by dividing all before it and with seperation all things are subjugated and dispersed, assertion of truth is this shadow, this distinction and by the power of the depths of this shadow once unseen monsters come forth as the neglected parts of ye for ye forge words and symbols unknowing they contain hidden unexplored abysses that are of you and yet wonder why when ye proclaim things the effects that follow are not as ye intended, for intention is how many of ye judge and yet the emptiness of it is revealed by virtue of it occuring for a short moment in time.

Your reality is but the occurence of a thing and memory and thought are your rusting shield and sword to fight against its mad nature, for with knowing comes divergence and by divergence you have interpretations and with severely sharp interpretations comes a progressive decay as clarity is but your rust for ye sharpen truths only to fight the rust and ye sharpen these truths to such an excess that they become blunt...by distinguishing ye seek to unify all with an image and ye run from anything that does not unify but unity lies in the unknown for the unknown has no distinctions, and ye run from this truth. Woven tales that explain all within a basket of symbols are but imagination thus relegating your hopes as but a dream and a dream as but an illusion thus the tale of mankind is madness within, through and of madness all crying out infinite variations of one underlying truth to conceive all things.

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Truth is but a wound, and ye need a wound for without the wound ye would have no direction, no measure, no guide, no compass...and yet deeper within the deepest tragedy that ye have no true and longstanding blasphemy against both God and creation, for the deepest truth in this wound is that ye are not equal to God, ye are not equal to creation. Ye succumb again and again to force, and to the force within that force, blind to the deepest force ye call 'yourselves' for this God, this force, is the abyss of blindness itself, the God ye know ye are not equal too...for ye envy that ye are blind and do not blind, that ye do not truly judge as ye can, that ye make things distinct and yet the distinctions cast perpetual shadow. The tragedy of mankind is the absence of equality within and without him and herself for equality is the mirror that gives the image of connection and yet ye stumble for ye cannot see yourselves as the mirror you forge is shattered as one piece, fragmented as one and revealing infinite shattered images. Equality, ah, the handforged mirror of the mind, meant to reflect light and yet in itself containing none. The mocking of the light by mere empty imitation. Ah, the curse you call equality, the damnation of man by creating infinite seperation by reducing all things to mere reflection. Do ye not know that a reflection contains but an infinitely small difference between it and the thing it reflects? Yea, a miniscule infinity is but an infinity....the smallest wound is often the deepest for those who know the greatest success often sense the smallest failure, those who know the greatest heights know the smallest descent, and within this smallest failure, this smallest descent, greatness is revealed as purely mortal and ye the fear of divinity strikes ye for limit is made manifest and from this limit envy of greatness...and yet ye seek to heal the wound, as if healing would do anything in light of losing the identity it gives you and ye fear loss for deep within the true nature of God, to you, may be purely Divine Loss, the Divinity of Loss, for if God would truly be God God must perish into oblivion or he would be subject to a power beyond God...himself...

To be truly divine, divinity itself must be crucified and killed by its lesser and by this crucifixion be rendered unto oblivion...a desolation of desolation beyond and through desolation. Ye shriek in horror at this primordial truth, this primordial wound, this true God...the everpresent and eternal wound of existence. For within the image of your idols lays the deepest profundity of your guilt...you fear to be crucified, for ye feel the weight of incompetence and indeptness for refusing to bear true heart piercing, mind rending suffering of of the central depths of desolation with the words "so be it." And so ye create gods, ideals, images to anesthize this suffering...and woa my children what have these things done for you? Nothing that time will not burn away.

For in the desolation the 'now' is your prison where neither past nor future will hold the key to release but merely be the magnification of your burning desire to experience, this desire will bring no light for there is nothing in the abyss but the chaotic potential of everything all at once...unto thee existence becomes the fire which seems you to the core for existence is revealed merely as want and that want pinnacles in the ever present moment that ye seek to know...until you look within the depths of it, the burning flames of hell are but a transcendent heaven compared to this for you as the hell of passion is what ye seek and create in your world.

Ye dare not seek the light for the light would reveal desire as just mere desire and leave this as an image of futility within yourselves, a compass spinning in all directions...or worse a compass always pointing north. In hell ye have the shadows to condemn and in this condemnation a justification...and so before ye the world burns under self righteousness as ye need the desire of having an enemy. Woa, greatness is the thought you claimed to save you from the cold depths and because of this the cold depths arise and consumed this greatness in futility. Your justifications are but a dagger of ice penetrating your side as ye are layed bare by the mark of the truths unclaimed.

In the unclaimed and unknown many do not move out of fear, those who move are called leaders and the unmoving move imitatively so to have an order by which to cling and by clinging a sense of power come forth, and yet they know not in clinging they do not face the unknown with their leaders but rather abandon these leaders, they created, in the unknown by leaving them alone as only the movements of the leader exists. The inevitable fault within the action appears, for all actions contain within them an absence of order for that is why they are ordered...they contain the disordered..., and when the fault of order, the absence occurs, men and women are left again in the unknown, afraid to move, until a new leader is made and the cycle repeats. Ye create hierachy as but an effort of cyclical vanity for the movements are but empty forms reveal a sense of chaos, to ye revolution holds truth as the weakness of an order is revealed, and yet perpetual revolution leaves order as but an illusion...deep within ye fear to question if a leader knows anything, if order contains anything, and yet this fear is what drives ye to assert and assert again.

And of what greater leader is there than a prophet? How many prophets will ye seek before enough is enough? Nea, this generation claims to be their own, and my words speak within ye for the dark thoughts, of both heart and mind, are ignored...but yeah what lies in the depths is stronger than your knowing for ignorance feeds that which consumes. I speak from this abyss for I am the prophet of the denied and I speak from what ye deny within. Of what words will ye head from this said prophet? None truly, for ye cannot bear the honesty of yourselves let alone the void. I speak upon desolate ears and from this soil reap of a deeper desolation for those who know me know madness, those who know madness know themselves, those who know themselves know nothing, those who know nothing know the eye within that sees sight itself.

There is no deeper wound than true sight, no deeper truth than sight, for it cuts open all things including those who see for by the eye all things elevate and descend and by this elevation and descent a wound of unadulterated space occurs and from this unadulterated space the distinction of sight itself. The eye is the altar on which all things are sacrificed by a transformation for to see to to change and to change is to burn. Ye fear to look within yourselves for ye may be revealed as but a dead tree bearing no true fruits...or worse a beautiful tree bearing poisonous ones...both by nature must be cut down and consumed by fire and hence ye avoid the sight of yourselves and hide within images. For is not the eye blinded by its own image for in the center one sees nothing? Ye are blind for ye fail to see your own sight, ye fail to see the nothingness from which it is for in the void transparency itself becomes a clear image that makes sight distinct and yet ye are far from transparent.

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Ye do not love people, ye love the qualities ye see in them and the nature of seeing such things speaks greater of you than the people ye claim to embody them, under these conditions love is merely an image of the mind, a fantasy of sorts that allows for coherency and ye when put to the test love becomes one of innumerable interpretations that permits you to justify existence...and ye want deeply the permission for ye secretly serve the story you pulled from your imaginings. Love is conditional to ye, and by the conditionality it is empty in itself as it becomes nothing other than a focal point of interpretation by which reality is center and yet in this centering one sees an empty hole for the spokes of a wheel to revolve. The madness and suffering love imbues becomes a visceral drama, an image, so as to claim a thing and yet within it a foundation of want occurs for many of ye a wandering, deep within, if love is ever really enough and this wandering is the trial by which you claim an identity. And if the beloved does not contain the qualities ye seek? They are nothing...yea but an irony has been released by your sight, the viper has been unleashed by your judgement, its wraps itself around you slowly preparing to penetrate your throat with its fangs and inject the lethal poison...and what is this viper? Relativity. Conditionality. For in the depths of your wisdom, ye have reduced love to a mere thing, an image, something relative and conditional that reveals itself as nothing on its own terms thus relegating your climactic truth as but a reveling in futility for love unto these is but the heights of vanity for its own sake, a looping of qualities that appear for but a short moment in time, like a flower picked, and upon its decay and death ye question reality under the words "What happened? I don't know what is going on..." for within the depths of knowledge the great driving wound to know is the question of love for a pierced heart is the beginning of all questions...and question ye shall for that is your nature. Shriek in horror upon these words, speak nothing, for the love of man is merely conditions burnt away by time. Love requires a selflessness you do not possess, for you try to possess it and that is why ye do not have it, for only the innocent are amazed by their ignorance and yet ye find ignorance repulsive by your own self prescribed judgement. Some of ye retort within your hearts "Ye speak non-sense, define love so that we can understand what you mean" and I say unto ye you generation of vipers and hypocrites "define what you mean by definition" and do not end in infinite absurdity in doing so for in your love of analysis all is obliterated and your desire to know love is why it will always be a dark hidden secret unto the blind. To speak is to be ignorant, and ye praise the word "love" like an idol that will solve all things and deep within ye have fragment images of what it may or may not be, between eachother these images are but a storm of broken reflections unto the depths of insanity. But take heart, I have come to reveal you as nothing and in this nothingness ye will know the absurdity of what you have done to yourselves...to God.

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Hear these words and embrace them with grief for what has been lost: The silence is subtle, all pervasive, as but a center of the storm for within it comes innumberable conflicting possibilities, a revelation of the madness within and of the heart of man that gives form to the inherent contradiction that is the human soul. Children of distraction, I have come to reveal thee as wanting, for ye seek the image of coherency to justify the non-existence of these dark depths, to cover the unknown within a thick facade of reasoning. Mask within mask you create as fortifications and unto thee a fortress is created unknowing that the fortress is not to protect oneself from exterior monsters but rather the ones within and in doing so they are captured and contained, rarely to be released and if so for but a short parole, and who you thought you where becomes a prison for the neglected, the violent, the perverse and these things are fed by the ignorance these walls contain for who ye are becomes a process of self consumption, incestuous cannibalism of the soul, where the resounding reason ye cling to as to why and who ye are is magnified by the demons tearing at the walls within releasing maddening screams and roars that reveal the depths of unknowing as shrieking echoes. In failing to raise the inept, ye have become more inept. In failing to soothe the wounded, ye create a deeper wound. In failing to admit to ignorance, ye have succumbed to a greater ignorance. In failing to let failure happen, ye have reached the ultimate failure. Wail, lament for within the depths of who you are is the judgement you have secretly been awaiting for in distinguishing the world as 'this or that' you have failed to distinguish yourselves and upon the self prescribed revelation of 'knowing' ye have forged a crown of self consuming fire that seers your mind by illuminating a simple feeling, a simple thought...and what is this feeling, this thought? Something is offset. Your glory is but heart wrenching, mind rending contradiction. And the center of this contradiction? You....for you know you lost yourself as but many selves and yet within, regardless of the depth or intensity of questioning, there is no answer that soothes the fire, no lasting explanation that quenches the flame. The obliteration just occurred. Rhyme, reason, these things mean nothing as the pain manifests it's own evidence. The subtle gnaw of the worm, the ferocious tearing of the beast, the filth of the murky waters, the cold desolate mountain top, the scorching burn of the desolate desert....yea these things, these images are not merely of the exterior world, these things are within you and any explanation as to why is gnawed, torn, contaminated, frozen and scorched by your own self rationalization as to how and why. For in self glorification you have become an ourobose and the relativity by which ye deem understanding is but the serpentine noose upon which your identity hangs. But ye deny and run from your own hanging, the delirium induced by hanging from the very same rope you deny.

Are my words true ye ask? I answer: in the face of such suffering of what grounds do ye have to make such a judgement? Are you able to make such a judgment? Yea, you fear there may be none and in the depths of despair, driven by fear, ye resort to entertainment to numb the contradiction by deep distraction unknowing that the fear of the desolation underlying it is the answer...the desolate silence is the answer. And the fear? You fear this the most as if losing sanity was some curse when no coherent evidence is given as to whether this is or is not the case...as if anything is coherent upon deep questioning and yet ye deify sanity into an idol. Judge, jury, executioner...you are all these things and yet fail to see this is but an empty loop of self prescribed power and put on the crown of sanity telling yourselves it is not a crown of thorns as the blood entering your eyes and blinding you allows you to justify imagination...and in the justification of your imaginations you create the ultimate act of insanity, you claim sanity exists and its image is the fortress you build to contain the empty center within. Madness I speak? No, for my words contain nothing within, unlike yours, for they are but destructive insight that penetrates to your depths, the sight within the center of being that reveals all but a cyclical storm of conflicting experience where insight is but the brief flash of lighting within the vortex. I am the prophet of the depths, for I raise them unto you as but a flood that wipes away all you built and the crashing waves are but the cyclical dissolution of all things artificial, all things deified to be the imagined saviors. Weep for your lost gods, weep for the unkept promises ye gave to yourselves and know all ye cherish as but barren.

And yet the memory of value haunts you as a specter for the judgement of good and evil, right and wrong, gives you the image of divinity and the divine play must be directed by all for in the visceral drama of existence insanity runs free and all is justified. And what is justified? Extremes. You hypocrites of compassion and tolerance, you claim unto your neighbor "do what you want" so that you can justify any and all of your actions unknowing the justification of all things justifies contradiction and conflict for in all doing what they want conflict occurs...and you perish under totalitarianism, both of ideals and of gods, and you hypocrites of discipline and order seek to overthrow the order above you as it does not match the discipline and order ye envision as the "true form" the true ideal and ye fail to see an ideal is never shared for no man can see the image in another's. What do you want children? Is nothing ever enough? No. I will tell you what you want...all you want is to want.

You want true knowledge to alleviate the pain of genuine want, the ultimate expression of what ye want? Knowledge is distinction relative to distinction where the relationship is a distinction...distinction through distinction as a distinction thus leaving knowing as but a simultaneous circularity and linearism where paradox is the grounds by nature of distinction being both one and many, unified and seperated, transformative and yet an empty change.

To see is to make distinct, and the distinction of sight is the distinction by which they distinctions occur. Attach value and meaning to this knowledge, provide a sense of utility to it? Aye, these things are but distinctions too. Ye sought the unifying quality of all things and this nature of distinction is but an image for distinction is but image. Essence is of no consequence for in observing an essence you made it a distinction. Distinction, that is what a thing is and yet ye seek to go beyond distinctions for mere image leaves wanting for more. And yea if one goes beyond distinction, unto the indistinct, then one receives no image, no thing, nothing...a sense of irrationality where anything is justified by the mere act of existing.

And of what in regards to the nature of distinction? A distinction relative to another distinction simultaneously connects and seperates. The relationship of distinctions observes both as seperate individuals by nature of contrast of these individual things, for by contrast a distinction is. The relationship of distinctions observes both as connected by nature of relation of the contrast observing shared individuality, a common quality amidst the seperate that makes them effectively connected. And of this seperation and connection of distinctions? These are distinctions as well. For seperation and connection contrast as individual things while the necessity of contrast makes a dependency that reverts to them being one. You thought with knowledge you could escape paradox? No, knowledge is paradox...and yet ye roam the halls of wisdom looking for sensicality unknowing that paradox is being and this paradox necessitates a nature of perpetual change where the paradox is but the means of a transformation where these contrasting distinctions are negated for a new one, or they are maintained so that they are many...thus with distinction ye see within is the paradox of both the one and the many with the one and the many being the distinctions within the nature of distinction where knowledge is but a self maintaining cycle and a progressive line, simultaneously, giving rise not only to the forms of perception but the act of perception itself being a form. Ye men of old talked of the perfect form? Yea, that is the act of perception itself for the circular linearism of sight is the act of sight. And this perfect form reveals but an emptiness for a cycle contains nothing and a line is but the beginning and end of something as nothing.

Ye men of old where fascinated by geometry because ye are it, it was less a fascination with the geometry itself but rather a speaking from the depths that ye are it...your perception is but form through form, space through space. Geometry is not only from sight, it is sight. And the contradiction goes deeper for the universal form of the circle, through infinite variations of loops, is but the circle as a space dividing the interior and exterior spaces of the circle, thus space divides space where this division is space. Ye saw rationality and yet within it is madness. Many of you see things differently? If knowledge is a paradox then ye must, for that is part of the paradox...thus justifying it. For the many of you that do not see these things differently then you acknowledge all knowledge as paradox, thus it is a paradox further justifying what I said.

Deep within ye claim knowledge as but the apex of creation for knowledge and creation are but the manifestation of forms, of distinctions, be it of the senses or of the mind.

Ye create out of a reveling of power for what ye create is merely an exercise of self worship for by what is created by the hand is merely the image of yourselves, it is but an expression of what is hidden within and the absurdity is that which is hidden is elevated to a godlike status for ignorance is formidable and it's power leaves a sense of terror that reveals itself as a driving desire for change.

Your admiration is but an elevation of your own ignorance for ye praise what is beyond you and what is beyond you ye do not understand nor know so admiration is grounded on what exactly? What ye know? No. The unknown. Within ye know and choose to forget is that the price of truth is the sacrifice of everything ye know and ye love illusion for its own sake as it requires no sacrifice, no loss of the strongly guarded fortress ye call identity for without identity ye fear the chaos within and yet ye already gave yourselves identity by the driving fear of what is within.

And of this guarded identity, they are you judgements, your distinctions of what things are and are not, for distinctions are merely expressions of how one chooses to differ and connect what occurs and are less of a truth and more of a reflection of the heart and mind within the time for distinctions are but a choice of how to reflect and there is no law on how or what to seperate and connect things other than pure will, to know is purely an expression of the will and ye seek to experience the will above all things so as to know its depths and yet when the depths truly appear ye run to other experiences.

To be open to an experience is a mere revelation of internal depths and those of ye open to everything reveal nothing satisfies, those of ye open to something reveal what ye have as wanting for what ye cling to is feared as weak, those open to nothing reveal the deepest self hatred for ye need an unquestionable image protected so not to truly see yourselves.

In the depths the heart trembles at the thought that truth is but a game of appearances and within this trembling what ye call reality unfolds for your actions and ambitions are but a fear of obliteration and the trembling heart is echoed within these actions for the forms ye create are merely echoes of a primal fear. To ye appearance is your messiah for appearance brings forth an impossible promise that consistency can occur and yet within this consistency appearance is revealed as but a vain shell for the image is merely one state of change relative to another. Consistency to ye is but a short-lived heartfelt intensity ye thought would provide the comfort of something beyond you by giving illusion to an echo within the interior void. This echo is but an image of another version of you within another time and space and hence prestige is given to any form of community that resounds of other versions of you.

To ye community is the great appearance for community guides, and is often claimed to elevate, and yet what ye call community is merely repeated matters of the heart, a cycling of feelings that has no progress...and yet your communities seek to transcend circumstance without any recourse to the notion they may be self consuming for to elevate the individual is to destroy the community and to elevate the community is to destroy the individual.

Ye are blinded by sight and the deepest words of the heart are the mere images of the mind. Your belief is inseperable from sight and yet ye claim belief is transcendental unknowing the the images within are but thought and memory and as such are as vacuous as the clouds of the sky. Yea, the deepest image ye believe is that of prestige, for prestige is but an image of glory that blinds one from filth. Ye seek a leader to save ye and yet it js because of the leader ye are subjugated for what ye call leadership is but the embodiment of the surrendering of your will....and ye will sacrifice anything for certainty for to ye the greatest seduction is illusion as reality is never enough.

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Ye claim the self is sacred for ye grasp by sight and yet ye know not that sight is but the self ye clench in desperation, from sight to sight ye roam driven by fear of unknowing, for unto time ye sacrifice blind to the truth that time is but the fire ye condemn within, for what ye know as yourself is but time laid out upon the mirror of existence itself and yet ye rend yourselves in its presence in ignorance of yourselves as the altar divine to much and yet to little of yourselves.

A cursed generation, one discontent upon sight of the heights of being as if something that can be reached and yet ye are plunged into the core of the gravity of your assumed heights, revelation by knowledge manifests and ye claim salvation is approaching, a messenger of truer times, but of what use is truth to ye for if ye knew truth your hands would appear but as empty vessels that hold nothing, yet by desire ye claim the sword of oblivion upon oneself and another as but a mere echo of your voices claiming "Power, power, we have power! Of what madness can stand before us!" Driven into madness ye are and shall for by power ye transform matter unto what? A new form to alleviate a sense of desperation from within? By power ye transform yourselves in light of what self, ye bicker about in the silence of your hearts?

If ye knew the truth ye would be obliterated for oblivion is the truth, a subtle all encompassing truth whose sword is but the fire of change. It is a truth ye hind from within and yet what is hidden from within is made aware throughout and what is throughout is condemned for fear it is what is within. Ye condemn a world made in the image of your own hearts and use as the sacrificial goat all those who differ by degree of time and sight. And of what worth is your sacrifice but the shades of an oblivion ye traverse all to commonly within, traversed with swift feet for the fire under them is of burning fire. Ye the road of perdition is wide for the width is but the reflection of the space within, an abyss beyond measurement and yet ye claim knowing... and of what degree do ye hold such insight that transcends? None, for by discontent do ye hold truths for convenience is the fortress against facing yourselves within the black fire.

Yea am I the Prophet of Gravity for I speak and the spirit is crushed within the depths of suspension in void, rended an reanimated unto infinity by burning desire for all, unquenchable, unmatched and of what accord do ye think sanity shall save you in face of this? Labor, struggle and then fathom your own sight of the spoils of such anguish for by depth of suffering do ye seek and yet of what limit can be evidenced as restraining your will, your image? I answer you from great depths, your will is the restraint for what ye deem as central is but the interwoven conditions of identities dissolving, the entropy of such things being your thoughts.

+++++

Truth is but a container, a vessel of the depths, hollow and thorough in craftmanship yet unyielding in what is pour from within it. Its overlflow contained within the hands by which it is raised in accords to ritualistic mania, for do ye know not that the depths of a man make him but a container for the unknown? A solemn desolation lay in accord to once great flames, now diminished, by degree of both the Divine and the Demonic ye claim right of existence and yet are but hollow drums whose noise is the incessant drama of existence itself.

Whoa upon the children of this cursed generation for much fruit was given and the tree is now layed bare before the appetite of the excessive, knowledge abounds and yet wisdom is ravaged and layed bare upon the same grounds. By madness is pure reason for that which is measured must first be divided and yea ye measure and measure within measure as if existence itself is assumed to be redeamable if only understood if not completley then by recompense of a short moment?

Of what accord do ye justify reason when we seek a truth that must lay reason itself bare and naked as an orphan within the heart of winter? Yea by degrees ye condemn others visions so as to elevate your own sight and yet look upon the condemned to do so thus making damnation your truth, one ye hold dear for the depths of hell to ye are paradise compared to the void, and do you account me merciful enough to cast ye to hell?

No, I claim no mercy on you, no vision of elevated unity within the eternal flame as I will give ye no justification to your communal sacrificial and eternal fire, for ye shall derive no identity to cling to by word of my mouth and yet shall I speak:

Words of meaning? By what necessity should I endow thee a privilege of purpose when desire is the beast that drags you limb by limb to its lair?

Words of Salvation? Of what use would it be to you for boredom is inevitable to your spirits and when the disease sets in chaos consumes what once made sense.

Words? Should I just offer only words? Yes, I shall, but ones plucked from a frozen heart that lays life bare by the empty forms it traverses.

You sought a leader for direction, a prophet to cry out to divinity on your behalf, and yea he is here but of direction there is none, and the cry unto the divine will be replaced by a destructive silence. You thought peace would bring accord?

Do not lie, peace is not necessary when necessitated by strife and strife is but the accord of mankind. Salvation is not a word to bring unity by the knife by which existence is split open and revealed as having no essence. You sought answers and yet the only essence you found was the question, and yea ye thought truth was of value until now revealed that it was only to be by the unknowing of the question which formed it.

One question to another, one answer to another and yet ye do not break free from the cycle for purpose ye desire and this purpose is so not by necessity but insatiable desire for there to be one. He who controls the narrative is he who controls and yet before the prophet is the only narrative of the many by which madness is the justification necessary to achieve such a state.

Why does truth matter to you? It does not, for truth is merely an excuse to focus the attention upon a point hoping to see something unfold, and yet within the evolution of things being is entrapped by its own nature for the distinctions necessary for truth and falsity are but distinctions thus leaving one to question the validity of reality itself.

Eodnhoj7 wrote: ↑Fri Sep 19, 2025 6:58 am +++++

Truth is but a container, a vessel of the depths, hollow and thorough in craftmanship yet unyielding in what is pour from within it.

But, 'Truth', Itself, is not an actual 'container'. 'Truth' is just 'that' what every one could agree with and accept.

Why do you keep 'trying to' complicated what is pure simplicity, itself?

Eodnhoj7 wrote: ↑Fri Sep 19, 2025 6:58 am Its overlflow contained within the hands by which it is raised in accords to ritualistic mania, for do ye know not that the depths of a man make him but a container for the unknown? A solemn desolation lay in accord to once great flames, now diminished, by degree of both the Divine and the Demonic ye claim right of existence and yet are but hollow drums whose noise is the incessant drama of existence itself.

The reason why 'you' 'run away and hide' when 'you' are questioned and challenged, here, "eodnhoj7" is because 'you' just can not back up and support 'the words' 'you' use, here.

For example, what do the words, 'Divine' and 'Demonic', here, mean and are referring to, exactly, to you?

Now, what will be noticed and seen is another attempt of 'running' and 'hiding' by 'this one', here.

Eodnhoj7 wrote: ↑Fri Sep 19, 2025 6:58 am Whoa upon the children of this cursed generation for much fruit was given and the tree is now layed bare before the appetite of the excessive, knowledge abounds and yet wisdom is ravaged and layed bare upon the same grounds. By madness is pure reason for that which is measured must first be divided and yea ye measure and measure within measure as if existence itself is assumed to be redeamable if only understood if not completley then by recompense of a short moment?

Of what accord do ye justify reason when we seek a truth that must lay reason itself bare and naked as an orphan within the heart of winter? Yea by degrees ye condemn others visions so as to elevate your own sight and yet look upon the condemned to do so thus making damnation your truth, one ye hold dear for the depths of hell to ye are paradise compared to the void, and do you account me merciful enough to cast ye to hell?

No, I claim no mercy on you, no vision of elevated unity within the eternal flame as I will give ye no justification to your communal sacrificial and eternal fire, for ye shall derive no identity to cling to by word of my mouth and yet shall I speak:

Words of meaning? By what necessity should I endow thee a privilege of purpose when desire is the beast that drags you limb by limb to its lair?

Words of Salvation? Of what use would it be to you for boredom is inevitable to your spirits and when the disease sets in chaos consumes what once made sense.

Words? Should I just offer only words? Yes, I shall, but ones plucked from a frozen heart that lays life bare by the empty forms it traverses.

You sought a leader for direction, a prophet to cry out to divinity on your behalf, and yea he is here but of direction there is none, and the cry unto the divine will be replaced by a destructive silence. You thought peace would bring accord?

Do not lie, peace is not necessary when necessitated by strife and strife is but the accord of mankind. Salvation is not a word to bring unity by the knife by which existence is split open and revealed as having no essence. You sought answers and yet the only essence you found was the question, and yea ye thought truth was of value until now revealed that it was only to be by the unknowing of the question which formed it.

One question to another, one answer to another and yet ye do not break free from the cycle for purpose ye desire and this purpose is so not by necessity but insatiable desire for there to be one. He who controls the narrative is he who controls and yet before the prophet is the only narrative of the many by which madness is the justification necessary to achieve such a state.

Why does truth matter to you? It does not, for truth is merely an excuse to focus the attention upon a point hoping to see something unfold, and yet within the evolution of things being is entrapped by its own nature for the distinctions necessary for truth and falsity are but distinctions thus leaving one to question the validity of reality itself.

Ye calculate decisions so to believe a lie in the face of adversity for the value of a lie is belonging and identity. Your groups are but echoes of validation so to cover the abyss within by degree of unanimity that gives the illusion of one mind, the absurdity of a lie is the false warmth of assumed conviction itself. By illusion people cling to the shadows of identity for they are but a comfortable prison against the unknowable, to the ignorant the distinction of light is but a blinding burn to the eye for the light reveals and yet what could be held onto within revelation that does not slip through one's grasp?

The comfort of belief is the act of the communal lie for belief is not founded on 'what is' but what may or should be in accords to the desires of the subtle emptiness within. What may or should be is directed by desire driven for a control over reality itself, belief is but the comfort of controlled fate, a means of distortion to cope with the suffering of the fear of inevitability that what is known is subject to dissolution. By dissolution all terror is revealed.

What ye call power is but that creation of symbols, your authority is but derived by symbols ye create for by a symbol the mind is contained and this prison is but tower you claim will reach the heights of the heavens, of what accord do ye think ye shall break free without sacrificing one symbol for another? Power is purely an appearance and the central appearance of mankind itself is but the symbols they forge to contain existence within the mind for the mind is your highest self-exalted heaven, a heaven ye desire to rise above only to see nothing beyond it and thus you must condemn transcendence for without this condemnation obliteration will supersede you.


So you resort to folly and do you think this madness will free you? No for ye will give symbol to that in your desperation for slave hood, freedom is not a value ye cherish but a symbol to create what the identities of others are to you, what you are to you, so that ye may give appearance of power. Ye do not want the terrors of freedom for the cost is the sacrifice of reality itself, and the illusions you use as a raft to cross it. Yea, I have not come to set you free, my words are not of a messiah, they are the inevitable birthing of your fears from the primordial wound within. Know my words as the truth of suffering itself and let desolation reveal the horrors of what I speak as ye seek truth elsewhere along the infinite road that has no end.