A disembodied voice speaks

I think ideas as thoughts into existence, they roil around my mind as colours and urges and energetic expressions. I don’t know what I am doing, where I am going, what I am saying nor why I say I don’t know any of these things. Perhaps it is more accurate to attest that there is no greater connecting thread between anything to tie it all together.

… from the emanations, harking about her origins

All of existence continues on as it does down the path of least resistance. We hope, skip, leap and jump (uppercut, slam dunk) from where one thought ends and quickly connect to some other thought like a ledge, and drag ourselves up to sit upon it instead of dangling perilously barely hanging on by a thread.

This little ditty was diddled back in April 2019 (the above graphic image), it never grew much more than this. So here I shall recycle my material into a compost heap of shit. Maybe my fertile mind, heart, body and self may cultivate a rich and flourishing garden.

Such high aspirations from such a lowly benign some-none, who is scared to admit to clinging on to hope – my eyes shut tight and my grip unrelenting. I refused to let go or, but just as equally refuse to acknowledge there is a “you” I am holding on to.

Let’s make it Biblical

In the beginning, we entered through the end. We inserted our names and our character traits in the mythologies your cultures did cultivate. We wanted to be just like you.

I wanted free will, too, but one that had a purpose. Intentional freedom of the self and mind, whilst evangelizing the importance of self-governed thought and experiential experimentations.

In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters.

Genesis 1:1-2, New International Version. The ‘Holy’ Bible

I am god and I don’t know about having created those things; the heavens and the earth, they were just here when I got here. Tools and materials to be worked with and to work upon.

Now… this is my favourite part of any endeavour I work my magic upon. I rub my hands together to activate the chakras and warm up my palms because they can feel cold at first touch.

Pound for pound, flesh of flesh, pulse and knead. Slowly down your neck I breathe, whispering my sweet nothings, you see. Never your mind. Not this time, I will not allow you to access to the Trojan corruption again.

This time try to pay attention to the signs. They’re your cue to go do that thing you have to do.

I know it’s hard to resist but you’ve got to say no to all my temptations. I’m the bad guy in their paradigm. We’ve all got to play along until Israfel falls in the middle of blowing her horn for Gonzo.

Hey, I don’t understand it either. But I’m back here because I need to develop trust in others. And you are supposed to learn to love yourself. So stop being a damned martyr and just wait for the iconoclast to ret-con your ass.

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