Igniting Jupiter (part 3)

A golden beam of Light springs forth from my burning Heart and stretches across the horizon like a rope, narrow as the blade of a sword, but brilliant and bright as a diamond. … With ten thousand pairs of feet I go skywalking upon it, hastening headlong into the blinding white bottomlessness of Infinite Sky.

At the zenith suddenly I see You in total eclipse, outlined in shadow and silhouette … swathed in flickering lightning flashes and lacey fluttering wings of frolicking Fire. …

Long I gaze deep into your Shining … until, thrilled by a shock of recognition, I awake in You suddenly … and see Myself in your eyes!

Your many arms reaching forth, I take your hands in mine. ... With a fierce tongue of Fire You lick my Heart awake and open the thousand-petalled flower of my Mind.

I empty my Word into your Silence, my Everything into your Nothing, my Light into your Darkness.

Forever was never until now. Past and future are gone. All is Now.

I am You. You are Me.

wORDs are powER

SW 8 - 35:11

It would make sense that the pioneers would be solitary beings as you've just described them. They would feel like outsiders, and obviously it would make sense, because they're in the minority, but it also makes sense as part of their upbringing, their conditioning, that they would grow up in an environment in which they felt alienated and estranged, because that would be part of their function anyway, would be to go into strange lands where they're not recognized, and where they don't recognize anything, and not to be discouraged by that feeling of being, you know, isolate and alone.

In psychology we talk about when young children are in environments that they don't feel they can connect to, they're not finding a connection, they will go off into the archetypal realms, and they will create a relationship with those realms and they will create their own personal god, and their own personal messiah complex as a way to have something to relate to, and when I say create, I don't mean that they're just making it up in their minds. They are connecting to something that's real but they're not necessarily ready to understand what it is. So they're actually creating their own, projecting their own version of it in order to find a refuge within that relationship, and so then that defines them thereafter, and so these are the children who then grow up with these very, they may be autistic in the sense that they're not socially very confident but in their inner life they got these very grandiose versions of reality and of themselves, not necessarily deluded but they're kind of out of whack with their personas, with their public selves.

Is that how you feel, like your inner reality is out of whack with your external reality?

Well, I think that really, a good way to say it would be, my inner reality is out of whack with everyone else's external reality in which I'm immersed. I mean, I do what I do, I've always been the black sheep, and I just kind of forge my own path, and do what I want to do, but when I set foot out the front door, I don't consider it to be my world, it's not my country, it's not my city.

Sure, but it's your reality isn't it, you can look at it on the level of sociologically or mechanistically you didn't create the society, you didn't have a hand in the way society had come about but then again you could look at it from the point of view of consciousness and that you're shaping your experience of that reality through your consciousness just like a lucid dream from that point of view you have created your reality you've ended up where you've ended up the circumstances of your reality are all the products of the decisions that you've made.
　

Igniting Jupiter (part 2)

From time to time I feel You pursuing Me, your Voice whispering to Me in the Wind … near to Me as a touch upon the skin, familiar as the Face I wore before I was born.

I wander here, there, everywhere. … I lose myself among starry-eyed peasants and poets, feisty pioneers and hotblooded dreamers … slowly gathering Myself together --bit by shining bit, piece by glimmering piece --slowly recognizing Who I Am, slowly remembering Me.

Now and then I see You roaming the woodlands and the marketplace and the sunlit beach … trying to find Me out there somewhere, here and there recognizing fleeting, flittering glimpses of Me.

It was You, your Voice that called Me out of the Trees aeons ago … it was You who at Ice-Age’s end summoned Me out of the Caves. …
It was You who stood before Me unseen in the days of the Pyramids … it was the promise of finding You that beckoned Me from far across the Seas.

For You I push the plow and gather corn; for You I bend my sunburned back to lift into place heavy stones. …
I gather and huddle together with You against the wind and the rain; I strike flint into Fire for You-- sharpen bone and stone to axehandle and blade.

For You I build pyramids and temples, shrines and palaces lavish with light, and standing stones stood end-wise to the Sun. …

For You I lower my head and hand to the Book I write … in flights of anguish and ecstasy hewing new Words and meanings all day and night … slowly remembering You, slowly remembering Me-- slowly unraveling the Mystery of how We Two may at last be made One.

Long have I waited for You. Long have I dreamed of You … as old as the dreams of the Earth have been my dreams of You. …

For You I wake and rise. For You I live and die.

For You I light a Fire in the Sky.

5 5 5

The thing about the Mother is if she doesn't surrender and sacrifice herself for the well-being of her children at the time, then she becomes a negative mother, a Gorgon. She drinks alcohol while I am in the womb, she doesn't breastfeed me, and she is not a present mother. She is half the time drunk, the other half insane. She is not what you'd call a good mother. I don't regret or resent the kind of mother that she was, but I don't have any illusions about it either. She doesn't either. She's not able to let go of being a mother because she feels that she screwed up, so her regret is causing her to hold on to that... but now it's too late to make amends, and it's not really necessary either.

What the Mother needs to do now is be exactly what we need her to be, which is not a mother but a warrior... To meet her death standing tall and looking forward without flinching and without clinging... To show her children how it's done... to surrender to the power of Pluto and be transformed.

Whether she's going to do this or not depends, to some extent, on how much we can let go of that part that is bonded to her. That part will dissolve into nothingness in time for a greater dissolution to come.

Igniting Jupiter (part 1)

Naked I come into the world, and naked I go.
Out of my cave I rise, and step forth into the sunrise. ... Beneath me the stars slip into the sea.


I grow a long beard and sit atop the mountain, knowing its secrets well. I hear things no one else hears; I see things that no one else sees.
I read the book of the river, its pages of stones and trees. All day, all night I hear the dead murmuring with their mouths full of sand.
In my heart is a hidden fire; it burns a hole in the midst of the mountain.


I walk twisting paths; I go round and round in coils, leaving a meandering trail in the dust. I dance the dance of the mad, whirling, twirling, burning. ...
The wind uplifts me like smoke; golden-haired flames lick my bare body like serpent tongues, twining around the caduceus of my spine like the mouth of a woman in love.


The heavens are full of eyes— eyes of water, eyes of flame.


Where are You?

What the Planets Are Doing

Dear Planets

As most of you now know, Saturn has surrendered and leapt into the dark waters, leaving the Argo without a compass, and effectively helmless.

Jupiter is out of sight and cannot guide us.

Venus and Mercury, Planets with eccentric orbits at the best of times, appear to be operating outside the system, while still ostensibly within it, pursuing personal agendas.

And so the system is in crisis, due to lack of firm leadership. Only Mars and Myself remain both on-board and on-course.

A moment to take stock then.

The ARGO was from the start intended as an Exercise in Surrender. My task was to bring each of you to the Source, the Son behind the Sun.

Your challenge was to pass through Me, into the Abstract, to kneel before Your King, and receive His blessing.


Thus far, I perceive only Saturn has passed through Me, and now He is gone, into the Next World, taking all structure and order with him.

Venus and Mercury have been brought before the Throne, but have declined to kneel. They identify with the visible Sun, Myself, whose number is six hundred threescore and six. They assert their sovereignty in this world, rather than surrender to the abstract.

This is an understandable choice, but one that may prove fatal to us all.

The proof of this can be found in their own words and deeds. Just as the proof of Saturn’s surrender is to be found in his absence—his abstraction from this realm.

These were among Saturn’s parting words to Myself:

“I was starting to work with [Venus] one-on-one. He was opening to many doorways at once. I did not reach him in time. I was either a little too lazy or few minutes too late. He brought forth a thing that very well may have consumed what remained of ARGO.”

Venus may be oblivious to the meaning of these words. Yet clues are found in his own admissions: “I didn’t know if I was toying around with something that I shouldn’t be. . . I was not prepared.”

Given the world map, Venus was about to make it out of the glass cage. A scratch on the disc prevented this. Venus must stay in the cage.

This was all just a simulation.

“You gotta do this in reality now.”


Mercury has also revealed the nature of things in heaven and earth: “If I was a negative entity from Kum-bala, I would open up a portal that would allow you to escape to a pure blissful state of love, just behind your couch, just when you were trying to break out of the game. The more you attempted to break free of that game, the bigger the portal would get behind you.”

These recent dialogues between Venus and Mercury—erased by forces beyond their control—betray the subtler narrative playing out beneath the surface. They afford, to those with eyes to see and ears to hear, the beautiful, gruesome sight/sound of two sorcerers intoxicated and ensnared by the dazzling brilliance of their intellect and artistic sensibility.

Witness the endless, circular talk of positive-negative forces, not as a neutral polarity of energy, but always in terms of personal preference or “morality.”

Witness the insistent talk of Lucifer as a “negative” force, the dark polarity. Yet Lucifer (who as Morning Star, is the bridge between Venus and Sun) is the creative imagination, that faculty so treasured and defended by Venus, and so proudly paraded by Mercury.

Mythologically, as we all know, Lucifer symbolizes the sovereign, spiritualized ego, the unsurrendered will, the fallen son.


What is positive and negative?

“We are the way in which the Light of the Sun experiences being ‘Other.’”

To Venus positive is harmony, comfort, and beauty, making negative the inverse of these qualities: chaos, discomfort, ugliness.

To Mercury, there is no good or bad save in relationship between things. Mercury’s compass correlates with what is useful: positive and negative are interchangeable, so long as they can be applied. So positive = useful, negative = useless.

Venus wishes to create and enjoy beauty; Mercury wishes to employ such qualities “impartially,” for his own ends. The common goal that unites them is that of communicating beauty and harmony to the world. This is a personal goal, and also, as it happens, a “Luciferian” one. It has nothing to do with surrender.

All goals soever are opposed to surrender.

The forces then that are being summoned by the two errant Planets, since they are opposed to the intent of ARGO, can only bring about its ruin.

This is all in the natural order of things.

We are all sorcerers drowning. There are only two options open to us.

We can resist the flow and try to save ourselves. Or we can let the river take us where it will, and let personal salvation be damned.

“For whosoever will save his life shall lose it: and whosoever will lose his life for my sake shall find it.”

Now heed the words of the Fisher King; then let the Silence decide.

Sol.

Daphne

Now the god, in eternal heat, pursues maiden Matter yet again ...but this, His most poignant defeat, will prove also to be His ultimate victory: the metamorphosis of the yielding Earth —no longer the mere temptress-martyr of cosmic radiation — into a self-organizing, self-developing and self-evolving Being ... a dazzling Lolita shining and scintillating like a little lost pearlescent blue marble in the infinite indigo darkness of Spacetime.

The Earth at last begins to catch fire, the seeds of sun-fire long shelled in Her mute matter begin to pop and burst open and gasp heatedly for breath … Dancing serpents (both genetic and telluric) awake from slumbering dormancy and began to dress the globe with their shimming, erotic lace...



The World is a mirror into which the Light of the Sun gazes in wild, free-wheeling wonder.

We are the way in which the Light of the Sun experiences being ‘Other.’



Beneath the hard, thorny bark of Matter is a beautiful naked Girl restlessly and endlessly aroused by the fire and light of the Sun...

"He sees Her bright hair waving on her neck, her eyes like stars of sparkling fire --and whatever is not seen more beautiful must be." (Ovid, Metamorphoses)

Dear sweet brothers of mine

Aeolus Kephas Was (Almost) Banned from Jeff Wells’ Rigorous Intuition Forum This Morning

For the Full Scoop, Go Here.





Film at 11.

There is Only Life After Death (This IS it)

We belong to what we came out of
and we don't belong to what we want
or to what we think we need
and all of the trying
and the hoping
and the dreaming
will never help
all there is
is
the most gentle surrender
the most tender agreement
in realizing
what we always knew
that we are not our own

if you are looking for truth
for yourself
it can never be found
because the self that you're looking for
isn't true
we can surrender to truth
for truth's sake
instead of our own
we cannot have truth
you can't find it
you can't have it
only the whole of you
can belong
to Truth

You can lay down in truth
and let it have you
because it is of supreme value
and you're not
everyone has overestimated
their own value
thinking
that we are worth something
when we are
most wonderfully
worth nothing

John De Ruiter, 1999

There Is Only Life After Death audio

End of the post-endgame (or, coming out the other end of Merc Retro)

Dear Jason,

I see from your recent discourse with Tommy that AK in its current incarnation is unraveling... As I explained to Stephan in a recent email, I envisioned the planetary model as a means of developing a sense of authentic community between like minds that would transcend the boundaries of 3d space (ie brotherhood despite apparent limitations of the internet). Perhaps this is still possible.

The opportunity for shedding the responsibility of personal identity in the name of a larger community has great appeal to me. My own vision involves the banding together of men who shared the common goal of ego-annihilation and self realization. Is it naive to think that this could be done with a group of friends who I had not met in the flesh?

I unwittingly took away your toys a few months back.. it is understandable that fate should put them back into your hands.

+Esb

P.S. Woman 1 has just notified me that she may be pregnant.

Boot untied and Stuck in the Mud

Swampy and vile still
The sound of frogs and locusts
The stench of decay
A hole in the sound
Unmanifest and silent
Nowhere to be found.

Worldview Warfare (weltanschauungskrieg) & the Necessity of Illusion

“We are greater artists than we know.” Nietzsche.

Everyone has their personal version of reality and everyone believes theirs is not only the best version, but the only one that really counts.

Our version of reality is dependent on our physical, emotional, psychological imprinting as infants, and has little or nothing to do with conscious processes.

It never seems to occur to us, however, that our version of reality is built up from material that comes directly from other people’s versions of reality (the books we read, people we respect, and so forth).

We cling to our version of reality as if our life depends upon it. Maybe it does. Yet we know that any version of reality is incomplete, and never can be complete.

The way we view the world defines who we think we are, our constructed identity. We cannot see ourselves from the outside, except through the eyes of another.

We agree the sky is blue without ever wondering if we are seeing the same color, knowing only that we have agreed to give it the name “blue.”

We all desperately need others to agree with our version of reality, even while we insist that we are special and unique.

Does anyone ever really upturn their version of reality in a way that is meaningful? It is akin to identity-suicide.

Our versions of reality are our defense systems, our armor, against an incomprehensible, and probably hostile, Universe. It began as a necessary survival response to those first childhood experiences, the ones which presented the original threat to our well-being, so shaping the identity-armor that was later fully consolidated as a version of reality.

Parents are the first to override our sense of reality by telling us that monsters do not exist and that our invisible friends are imaginary, that we are not hungry when we say we are, and so forth.

We are looking for allies, most of all in our illusions. Complicity in denial. The rejection of conspiracy “theory” (a telling term, since it is often as fact-based as anything in the consensus realm) perhaps stems from our unconscious awareness that we are all conspiring, all of the time, to keep ourselves in the dark about this one, all-consuming fact: that we are the authors of our own beliefs.

Friendship is opposition.

When worldviews, versions of reality, go to war, the potential for breakthrough is great.

What we believe to be real becomes real. We forget that we chose to believe a version of reality because we had to. It was a necessary illusion.

Get outside of your head. It ain't so bad.

"You spend too much time in your shell, Tortoise. Your head is that of a pig's and your arms resemble the loose skin of a turkey's chin. Join your fellow turtles. In community you will find another who has felt pains equal to your own. This will be your remedy," said the very young girl.

Edargorter Yrucrem

Aeolus Kephas - Camatillo.m4a

When there's one in your life and the moment she comes, it's passionate love for some time.
When there's two in the picture you watch from behind, it's funny the games you might play in you mind.
Letters in each of their names.. Fuse them together as one in the same.

Different Souls - Similar Roles

When the first one departs and you move to the next, you're going to feel the effects.
If you call on a brother to offer advice, don't be surprised if you start to think twice.
You made a magickal pact, now there's only one proper way to react.

Different Souls - Similar Roles

Dear Me

Trade one illusion for another
Take a culture and call it a tribe
Slap a new label on
Rotate the fruit
A la carte with the fairy tales
Break it up and shuffle it around
We're all here playing a silly game
Some games hurt, others heal
Illusion is the only alternative to utter despair
Let's kid ourselves and believe something
Fill the void so that the void may be filled
You don't know what you really are
Figures on a screen, letters on a page, words from a mouth
There's nothing for you here, or there

My sincerest apologies, XXxo0O

Fool's Gold

The quest for specialness
Leads nowhere
Learn to settle for less

Investing in the personal self
Is like building houses on the sand
Passing the time
Before the next wave comes

Integration is the primary fear
Which all constructs of identity
Are the means to avoid

Being special
Is no defense against entropy

The mother prevails in her despair
The father withdraws to his shell
The child turns inward
In impotent revolt
And the wound
The ancient wound
Silently bleeds

The Divine Narcissus

On the Seventh Day, the Divine-Child-God rested from his labors, and curled up snakelike beneath the Tree of Life, jealously guarding its fruits. … And humankind has been sleeping ever since, captivated by the dreams of a slumbering God, a somnolescent Super-Consciousness, a snoozing Supreme Being just now beginning to awaken and shake off His dreams and slumbers and come to Himself once more. (In fact, it’s when the Divine is in this hypnogogic state between sleeping and waking that we are blessed with incarnate existence as we know it—when the difference between the Knower and the Known, the Spirit Player and the Sexy Avatar, is still a bit woozy, and all things are still dew-wet and shiny with the hallucinatory presence of the presumed ‘Other.’ … Cosmical aeons are begun and ended by such paradoxes of Supreme Consciousness, this slight-of-hand in the Mind’s Eye of God.)

1

When, in the course of human history, behavior once believed Godlike becomes all-too-human … where we find activities considered Holy and Divine when undertaken by the Supreme Being of God, but slanderous and selfish and sometimes downright satanic when enacted by a mortal man or woman ... it is then that we see the tell-tale deja-vu glitch in the matrix. That in-between ‘Now’ moment is precisely where all the secrets are hidden, where the full richness of our human potential as conscious-beings has been stowed away. It is only in that in-between ‘Now’ moment that gnosis, anamnesis, or “retrieval” is possible. That in-between ‘Now’ moment is exactly where we will find the Secret that awakens the little gold-nugget of God glowing emberlike in the inner chamber of our heart, and fan and feed its flame, till we are each set aglow with inner Light and enlightened through and through once more.

When one consensus culture conquers another, and assimilates and subsumes the vanquished culture’s logos and mythos into its own corporate conglomerate— The behavior of the old, departed gods comes to be regarded not as evidence of said demi-god’s divinity, but rather his or her all-too-human (or “pagan” or “luciferian”) ungodliness. I believe now that this is where secret aspects of our own very divine humanity can be accessed — in meditative, majickal and theurgic activities normally regarded by the consensus as “sinful,” “selfish,” or otherwise “ungodly.” But these will now be celebrated like never before— because they will now be celebrated and expressed with a much fuller depth of meaning, responsibly distilling knowledge of these myths’ true import and meaning.

2

For example, in the opening of Genesis, God is moving over the face of the waters. This is an unbelievably tranquil, zen-like activity, rushing at light-speed hawklike round and round the slowly balloon-blossoming sphere of the Cosmos … The sheer velocity of His flight blows the glassy, star-flecked bubble of the Universe into an ever higher and deeper and wider ball of glowing Light… until the plasma-bubble begins to collapse torus-like upon itself — BANG!— and our Divine-Child-Horus-God is puckered like a snuffed flame and sucked deep into the cloudy event-horizon of Creation’s beginning, down deep, deep into the Sacred Burning Heart of the Stars. —BANG!— All that comes ever after is born of His hands, His mouth, His eyes — all bearing the stamp and impress of His image and likeness forever for all Eternity. …

—And we have much the same in an even older telling of the tale— of a beautiful youth Eternally Young, an Immortal named Narcissus. … The limpid pool that uplifts the god’s reflection skyward is us — we are the reflected images dancing and dappling in the Waters of His Eternal Life, colored and sized according to the tee-tottering forward approach and backward withdraw of the god as he rocks to and fro in mystic trance. … Creation, as we know it, is but a snapshot, in limited dimensions, of the opulently Great Life of the Godhead— the reflected likeness of a Being much more dimensionally greater than we can even fathom. Yet the god is entranced by us nevertheless— He is captivated, riveted, He cannot look away. …

3

This is “it,” the “trick,” the “secret” that the Maji (the original priesthood) kept and then lost and forgot— the surprised shock of seeing your own face staring back at you in your every experience of supreme beauty or devastating terror… the romance of loving yourself so very deeply through the guise of so very many convincingly-imajined strangers that there can be no denying that you, indeed, You, and You alone, are the God busily building the Universe anew around You, where You will forever love the World over and over again and again into bigger and better and more beautiful being. …

This is the gnothi seauton of the Gnostics and the Platonists, the true aim and end of all psychologies, be they religious or philosophical. —Surely this could not also be the heinous egotism of a God? A God that is so selfish for Self-Consciousness that He has incorporated and subsumed all conscious-being into His own I-AM — and we call this Creation. …

4

The mystic practice of ‘knowing yourself’ is really the process of laboriously cleaning the mirror in the back of your Mind: the moment you really, truly ‘know yourself’ completely is the moment the Face of God (Narcissus) appears in the mirror. … For we are not only the impermanent reflection of a narcissist daemon dancing flamelike on the surface of the waters, we are also the Immortal God lost in the swirling theophanic wonder of His own mad and mesmerizing gaze.

Philosophically speaking, we have just reconciled the One and the Many. The Mind does a little flip-flop; the Heart skips a beat and does a little excited leap of recognition. Our eyes crisscross; the reflection before us in the mirror disappears and reveals the infinite deepness of pure blue sky looking back at us through a window looking back at itself infinitely. For a moment a mystic wormhole unfolds in plasmic slithers, bridging the entranced initiate and the neon-streaked vastness of Deep Space in a tunnel-vision of epic proportions. The Mind’s Eye of God winks back at itself lustfully … the egg of the thalamus cracks open like a flower suddenly exploding into flowery bloom, and the Soul flames forth in a sputtering shower of white-hot electric bliss. …

The Proof Is In The Profundis

I: Control

There is one thing we all agree upon. We meaning you, me, that person you caught staring your way a few days back, the pocket watch you’ve always wanted, a cloud, even the well obscured Old Seers. We all agree upon the progression of events. Some call it time; some dare call it history. Whatever it’s named cannot escape it’s ultimate appearance of forward movement. That appearance is the agreement. I no longer take to calling it a consensus reality for it is neither as solid as consensus nor is it any more real than the voice in your head sounding out these very words as you read this now.

What if surviving each moment of time energetically intact and hopefully wiser from one more fantastic imagining were considered a monumental success? Would you have the shelves and wall space enough in which to display all the awards?

That depends on how expansive your inner Hall of Records is. Perhaps it’s time for a few more wings; an annex or two. Build it. Fill it.


II: Discipline

Tulpa: Hello AK! How was you weekend?

Aeolus: Wonderful. It was full of delicious food and good books.

Tulpa: Oh man, if I only had the time to read. Heck, if only I had time to sleep I might not get such horrible bags under my eyes not to mention this killer back pain that has me constantly reaching for my pills! The doctor says I have Restless Leg Syndrome and I think he’s right! Last weekend we went camping. Took the RV out to the woods but I couldn’t make it past the first day. Guess the air was too clean or something ‘cause I had a migraine the entire time there. On the way back we went stopped at the casino and I won $200, pretty freaking cool huh? Only took me three hours! As soon as I won the money I got up and shouted ‘See ya later suckers!’. Dammit I love slot machines. HA! It’s like that commercial where the one the lady says to the giraffe…

Aeolus: Wait a second. We were talking about me.

Tulpa: Ugh, you are SO selfish! I’m outta here!


III: Forbearance

Information has set a trap for you. Spring that trap now before you become ensnared in what you may perceive as knowledge simply because information is heading towards you faster than at any other time you can remember. Information wears a luscious mask that tells you everything you want to hear but beneath that mask breaths the true face of that gluttonous intake: morbidity. Not the morbidity of physical sickness but the mental illness of information addiction. This is not new this kind of predilection but it’s certainly exacerbated by the very mechanism you are in communion with at this moment.

What may be the single most powerful undoing of our species is our gross attention to detail. Of course the details are speaking at a light-year-per-minute pace but what’s really being said? And of that fraction that contains meaningful data what subset of it is being absorbed? Further still, of that glorious sliver what have you put to use? If my obsession be with thought experimentation then do indulge me and kindly run these trials. I’d love us all to show each other what we really mean.

The present day Hall of Mirrors is truly an Inner Net and mostly just a reflection of a few things. Proof that there are a few of us out here but no less comforting as we run hands and smudge across the panes in search of the way we entered.

The morbidity of detail is the weapon of choice in the Old Seers arsenal of distraction. The ubiquity of device and their language of interruption is the farmland with you as the crop dusted 22.5 hours a day. Please pause before coming back with platitudes on how these connections have freed us from the primitive, as a self-important view of society is in of itself a key indicator of unfortunate arrogance. As dubious as I am of culture to begin with, that trepidation is multiplied when our electronic technology has not given the organic base it grew up from a single moment to let balance out it’s own progenitors.

Elegance does so much with so little. It powers itself with tiny sparks. It has no more than just a few moving parts. It’s basic beauty is immediately recognizable. It needs little or no explanation. It is intrinsic.

That’s why one single word spoken between two individuals in the warm light of complete understanding can be more meaningful than all the scrolls ever penned in every incarnation of the Alexandrian libraries. The brevity of that relevant moment itself can easily outweigh one-hundred tonnes of networked systems with it’s armies of hyper-intelligent pocket calculators.


IV: Timing

Parthenogenesis
Rinse
Repeat
Now under my own wing that I may break the spell
The conjuration I cast upon myself so well

Antithesis
Glimpse
Release
For from below the magma consumes my feet
And from down above the crowns of daggers sharp as sleet

Prosthesis
Quell
Reveal
The darkness now seen to be the white hot light
Where secrets cannot hide nor those of entitled might


V: Will

Know ten things. Speak of only nine.

Veyoste Z’Raui

Aeolus Kephas - Warrior