Tuesday, May 2, 2017

Irony Is God's Digital Signiture

God, The Great Writer of The Ironic Parody and Historical Paradox,
The Master of Circumstance and Consequence,
Who measures the circumference of The Globe,
with The Eleven Diameter Digits Of His Hands,
is weaving a yarn before our very eyes,
a fabrication of "Believe In Or Not!".
He is serving us a fractal Pi of a Paradoxical Confusion Causing  Chaos, Hubris grown as phi gone mad. 

Watch them all fall down before me, to their knees, one after another,
fall to the ground in supplication and abated anticipation of relief,
for release from the burdens of bondage, as they become aware
of my chains running through their minds, corners of no choice,
surrounded by Predators sent from The Sacred Place of Mourning,
where the Priests are getting ready to feast on the newly arrived. 

Now it is night, the light of insight dims, and the sky is full of One Great New Moon,
My Lover, My Lover, we are coming so soon to be consumed together in a dancing flame,
a mating of heat and light, a meeting of darkness and the lightenning,
In God We Die, To Be Reborn Again In Reverse,
To Escape The Unceasing Curse of Being Born To Surrender To Slavery,
to not own one's own time and energy,
to work for another doing what one does while one disdains the product of one's own labor. 

Living a life that one hates for it's lack of any resonating purpose,
married to one to whom it seems so pointless to explain,
an inane exercise in futility, an insane attempt at self creative fertility,
to give birth to new implausibilities, to really have freedom of choice
while being short sighted about consequence
and having no clear hierarchy of values,
no self ascertained morals, no self commitment of adherence
to a method of civil ethics out of pure and expansive self interest and pragmatism,
do you really want freedom of choice? 

You have had it all along, to the full extant that you have anything at all.
Look around you, the world is a product, a wave function coalescence
of endless self referenced potentials
collapsing as narratives in the minds held together in time and space of mutual self interests,
of all the decisions made and the actions done and the words spoken
by conscious language speaking species in all of creation,
on every planet there is around any particular star,
in any Galaxy, at any time since the beginning of it all or until the end, 

of The Infinite And Eternal Ever Expanding Perfect Creation
of Striving For Perfection and never being able to arrive because Pi is Pi and Phi is Phi
and mathematically once I start measuring the circumference of a circle with its diameter
in a growing self similar sphere, the reverberations of the revelations
echo in formations of the development of a theme
about sequenced scenes with a flow of unfolding significance about magnificence
and The Royalty Of The Creator King, who remains ever unseen,
in All of His Living Perfection
and Within It The Manifestation of Seeking Perfectly Growing Resonance.
The Ultimate Romance. 

Love Entwined With Loving One's Self Inside,
Sharing One's Love For All Of Creation With One's Own Creator,
Coming Together Inside One's Self With The Other Side of One's Own Self
which is like skin being ripped away by some unexpected predator,
a child of chaos who creates confusion in an explosion of surprising implications
you don't have time to make sense of because you are going to die.
The only ones who ever die are those that perpetuate the theft of other's time
by telling them life goes on forever in Heaven or In Hell
and I have The Keys That Open All Locked Doors or That Can Lock Doors Forever
in The Dungeons of Oblivion,

Where One Knows Nothing
But Everything About What Doesn't Really Matter At All.
Like making friends and influencing people when it's God who puts people in your head
and then has them read scripts from screens of many different sizes in your mind,
making sounds of supplication that you look at them and them alone
and look and listen with all  your fragmented heart, to their engaging entertaining Art. 

All you control is your own attention and that's if anything at all. Place your attention on anything at all and the rest of most everything just kind of falls into place as you watch your own mind manifest as a changing reality of various degrees of sensual fluctuation and self manifestation.
Sit back and let go. Become a true Muslim. Surrender to the inevitable and unlimited triumph
of the well, the one that flows up and fills the heart, no longer apart, come together to sing The Holy Name.


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