...Creation, always one step ahead of us, fights back!
It was a bad moment, and being one himself, he was constrained briefly to ally with these signifying apes, whose tongues are perennially forked, against fate and Creation, and called for forgiveness of his merely human, clearly clueless murderers.
Yet then, his voice spent, the reels in his head began playing backwards, and he remembered that the terrifying horrible terms of existence are kindest angels compared to homo sapiens. Not satisfied with the rule of logic and needing someone or thing to blame and shame, so they can remain in perpetual resentment at the balance of dark and light at both extremes, and in every shade of the spectrum required for Being to be at all, they must tip the balance and outdo in darkness all the darkness in given Creation needed to balance the light of their graciously given consciousness.
When they reenact this enough times, will this cause the return of the messiah? Maybe they think so. Well, if someone must play Judas, I'm glad it's not me. And even if it's inevitable, that doesn't obviate responsibility. How long will they be content to blame and villainize Creation before they must once more concretize the enemy?
In a relative world, the lesser bad counts as the greater good. Left to our own, pristine logical and emotionally awake conceptions/perceptions, outside of any "teaching", just staring long enough in a mirror, do we not perceive this least false truth and know our true enemy?
The human self is a vampire, that rises again a hundred times a day, and we should and must ally with ferocious Being -- yes yes yes, my love yes I forgive you, if anyone it is you -- by OUR law innocent until proven guilty (not in compassion, but to protect the body of data) -- not I, who knows not what you do. Like a brave Greek king, by my guilt I have put out my eyes to play the role of the blind woman not just having tea with, but by now fallen in love with Frankenstein -- against the self, my self, which does know, and weaves a thousand veils and cobbles up an army of virtual lilliputians to tie itself down and cry -- "woe is wonderful decent spiritually gigantic me victimized -- but ...no worm I, I know my enemy, and stand erect and spit it in the face of Creation. To the horrible gruesome terms of Being and all who ally with this terrible God. Crucify! Crucify! Crucify them all! Would we could crucify IT! Aren't we all so beautiful, thank God we're US, compared to IT in all its ITerations and all the ITS that are into IT!"
(It is done. Pause for a few moments of silence.) Sigh. oh that Passion music it is a reason to live. How great is Good Friday -- peace be with you any dear dear friends who actually read this -- to throw up this liberating, cleansing, redemptive mirror in humanity's face. It seemed it would heal the world instantly, that humanity could never forget, but of course, it began to forget the instant it was recorded (or created, the poetic miracle is miracle enough) as the letters became more and more illegible in being dissected under more and more powerful microscopes.
Never underestimate the beastliness of this beast -- "when the son of man comes will he find faith on earth?" -- that keeps kissing itself princely until it drowns in its own reflection hoping on the way, in sheer spite spiced with envy, to suck the whole universe, and all the universes from which it came, and those to which it hoped to give birth, in its voraciously generative, ruthlessly regal generosity, into the black hole humanity that so carefully studies toward this end. Never doubt the capacity of this dark god in its ferocious need not to let anything go its own way without it.
