6.22.10

ye powers! all this talk, talk, talk, chatter, chatter, chatter about the divine.
christian, jew, muslim, pagan, witch.
my mind will explode with their words.
escape! escape! escape into the prayer closet and firmly close and bolt the door.
set wards to keep out their incessant pollution, their defilement.
how can i talk to, to, THE GREAT, MYSELF, THE OTHER, THE SERVANTS, with their terrible words as roars and gnashing and rolling of eyes.
may their words fall into the river!
may they sink into the ground!
may the birds eat them and leave a desert plane!
and i shall remain, alone, in sackcloth. at rest.

6.22.10

trust. fiercely. wildly. with abandon.
i go now to the lion's den of truth.
if i don't return, tell my wife i love her. so much.

for if there is a stain at all upon my soul, his fire shall consume me.
the funny thing is that everyone always thinks that these statements are allegorical, metaphorical, NOT TRUE.

but the godhead is a ruthless fire. a consuming blast. a gravity-well unforgiving, inescapable.

yet i fly to thee anyway. there is naught in this world that satisfies.

all joys are ashes to me. wine is as piss. choice foods are dung to me.

praises are poison drinks in golden cups. encouragement; that is honest, but foolish.

there is no escape, no help, no path but his deadly trail. i will go now. now to pick my way.

fear not, it is not a long path.

if i return. i shall have the tablets. if not, leave me in the altar as food for the demons.

i reject this physical life. i cast it aside. i come.

6.22.10

all present. but the king is distracted. so we shall all wait upon him.
when he returns to himself, still we will be ready.
our attention wavers not; the temple cool, bright, still.
ten thousand dragons we are all in rows.
our robes flutter only slightly.