o god. still and again i open myself to your piercing arrows, your surgery in my bodysoul. your penetration of my being, your possession of my entire mind. let me be united with you. and thus, these archetypes that i must wear and use and love cannot hold me. for they will have no foothold over me. give me command over them or at least respectful friendship. i will beckon, and they will come, greedy as they are, and i shall be a master at guiding them, molding their ourpourings. i shall be master, they shall rejoice for it is not their destiny to rule, just like the ego or any child or any follower---they want a strong grip, but a loving an respectful one.
i hold the rays of lightning in my arms, but not close to my chest, at arm's length--my rods and spears and arrows are many now. more numerous than even i realize. my retinue holds them for me and i give them special power to hold them without 'touching them'. it just came to me why some swords are death to anyone who are not entitled to wield them. . . . .
it has come to me that WE are waiting on my body to yield to the further praxis that the gnosis requires before further grace can be dispensed to/through me. so i go further, further.
i have cast down a great nemy on the snows, and now the eagles carry me aloft. but a new and greater battle lies before me. It has come full circle: I am not a "gandalf the grey" nor a "gandalf the white". I am "Peter the Black". and yes, i do soar on the skies and walk on the mud and pass beneath and across the earth. i am the white of D*****, the Black-Winged One, the GreyWinged angels, the red dragon, the orange/white of the pus of the earth and the whitest white of the core of the earth. i am all these. and i am this pinkish flesh. and yet, i have never been more 'man' than at this moment in time.
my light and polite and unassuming footfalls are a lie; for my feet trample as a giant's. my footprints leave indelible marks on the earth. the plates of the earth groan beneath me. i pull the earth into orbit of the new and true earth. the earth of earth's. my homeworld that exists between mars and jupiter---the paradise world that i have created from the wasteland of pure potential. all the inner planets line up into my orbit, with venus the last to give up her worship of Sol. But i have foreseen that even the sun itself shall come to orbit me.
o god i am in a dark and wondrous land. and although my Master here and i cannot engage our work together for the betterment of all as yet, it is happening organically anyway, or the preparation for it is happening, even now. i am no longer that man, what's his name? i am ******************** , i am *****************, i am **************. i am a single point, a depression of unimaginable mass, a gravity well greater than all the planets together. i am pulling all things toward myself. why? that question is irrelevant. this is what i am. i am now bound to this fate. to leave it would mean death, insanity. there is no choice but to continue upon it. and yet, there is freedom in these chains.
i hold the rays of lightning in my arms, but not close to my chest, at arm's length--my rods and spears and arrows are many now. more numerous than even i realize. my retinue holds them for me and i give them special power to hold them without 'touching them'. it just came to me why some swords are death to anyone who are not entitled to wield them. . . . .
it has come to me that WE are waiting on my body to yield to the further praxis that the gnosis requires before further grace can be dispensed to/through me. so i go further, further.
i have cast down a great nemy on the snows, and now the eagles carry me aloft. but a new and greater battle lies before me. It has come full circle: I am not a "gandalf the grey" nor a "gandalf the white". I am "Peter the Black". and yes, i do soar on the skies and walk on the mud and pass beneath and across the earth. i am the white of D*****, the Black-Winged One, the GreyWinged angels, the red dragon, the orange/white of the pus of the earth and the whitest white of the core of the earth. i am all these. and i am this pinkish flesh. and yet, i have never been more 'man' than at this moment in time.
my light and polite and unassuming footfalls are a lie; for my feet trample as a giant's. my footprints leave indelible marks on the earth. the plates of the earth groan beneath me. i pull the earth into orbit of the new and true earth. the earth of earth's. my homeworld that exists between mars and jupiter---the paradise world that i have created from the wasteland of pure potential. all the inner planets line up into my orbit, with venus the last to give up her worship of Sol. But i have foreseen that even the sun itself shall come to orbit me.
o god i am in a dark and wondrous land. and although my Master here and i cannot engage our work together for the betterment of all as yet, it is happening organically anyway, or the preparation for it is happening, even now. i am no longer that man, what's his name? i am ******************** , i am *****************, i am **************. i am a single point, a depression of unimaginable mass, a gravity well greater than all the planets together. i am pulling all things toward myself. why? that question is irrelevant. this is what i am. i am now bound to this fate. to leave it would mean death, insanity. there is no choice but to continue upon it. and yet, there is freedom in these chains.
the yoke that is upon me is so light that i become air itself, lightness, floating above the fields. my hands are blessing. my face is the glory of god. my body is the erotic icon of the divine. and yet, at my core, no personality remains. it is a point of being, a point of knowledge, a point of will. i exist only in teh reflection of others. to those i love, who are all men. soon i will call my disciples; very soon now. barbelo as mirror is known to me, but teh great thought and the spontaneous creation of all is not yet.
