On the other side of Midnight, there are imageries and in its pristine clarity, when you have the courage to pierce through, the very agitation of the transient wave itself could temporarily blind even those without eyes, sightless in an instance, perhaps indefinitely if one is not accustomed to living in it’s darkness.
As the moon retaineth her nature, though darkness spread itself before her face as a curtain, so the Soul remaineth perfect even in the bosom of the fool — Akhenaten
When Medusa smiles, or when Mansur cried I am Truth ( اناالهق) one doesn’t chop off their heads, or make the quotidian difficile for them, for therein the smile, and the impression is the answer to the question. What did the serpents foretold of the journey? Do humans kill because it is incapable of understanding the Word or do they employ their hearts and minds to read that which is incomprehensible to the masses if at all?
Would you who proclaim civilised kill your own species just so your family can have a history, a respectable civilisation in divine eyes, and maim those not of your paths proclaiming staunch sincerity when sincerity itself is but a divine state?
Why do you think the humans adorn their heads with colourful Sassoon and L’Oréal instead of enshrouding themselves in humility? The crowning glory is synonymous to that of the serpents but do you chop off your heads because you do not read that which ought be read? Why not start reading the strands, understanding why it was designed as such? Civilisations like chapters unveil that which was once concealed for an enriching journey. Unfortunately for most, reading isn’t a virtuosity — Nobility, is a refined vibrational state and perfection is such a joy and only the perfected would comprehend the chapters therein the tomb itself.
Must humanity be first entombed to be read? Must Gaza and the Palestinians first be wiped out before the world can read the completion of the Chapter understanding its fate? Even if the story ends in favour, would you do in your utmost to iron out the creases, out of necessity only because in the frames of things you wouldn’t want the rest to understand and experience their journeys completely. However without understanding the disruptive nature of friction, or of the fire, one is unable to harmonise the geothermic degree of the karyon. And that is why knowledge is necessary if not obligatory in the storybooks of life.
Does it really take the Sun at Midnight to unveil that which is concealed? The Angels have no need for a state to be accepted thereon Earth or elsewhere to undertake their tasks. Darlings, some minds need these indications to decipher and comprehend the subtlety of the message. That is why communication, unillustrated children books, expressions of the dance, classical music, and social media is still popular in the mundane past; why startups and real businesses are essential in economic growth, therein the games, of humane continuance.
Can you imagine a world where information on the Internet is nothing but indoctrination of the meaninglessness? In insanities are answers to the quandaries, as much as in the frequencies the colours.
There are movements in the current of the terrestrial reality wherewith the pole shifts amongst other signs in the mundane skies, and current events, show and lead one to a wakening of a story, or an unveiling, ofttimes, a more disturbing pattern – how to unriddle that which reveals the reality of the Gordian without so much as stirring the monumental waves by creating a crippling effect throughout the Universe, as the agents have been paving even before the forties, now just a pinch by ridding part of humanity.
Not the Palestinian identity rather the collective humanity to that which is part of each and everyone who proclaims being human. Watch, observe, understand but why isn’t the world reacting to a part of itself being murdered, being removed, being … seared? Do you not know? Has everyone suddenly froze overnight? Unfortunately for the telluric species, unless it is awakened, there is really little one can do to change the scenery. There is little need for the scene to change. One does not gorge the eye just because one is sightless nor does one become a hypocrite because one is conscious.
I’m afraid figuratively speaking bien sûr, the overt idolatry found amongst contemporary and staunch believers irrespective their paths and principles (instead of the non-dual) amongst them will not only destroy them in the end, and eventually their confidence in their leaders, but also that of their worlds, and dreams. One only has to read to see where the slant of the story is leading them to. That’s what the bloody story is for isn’t it darlings … to thereafter let the stories become fables for the oes, and theirs’. When we create stories, do we get involved thereon the stage — there simply is no treason where there is Love.
We do not drink wine because it reminds us of (the) lifeline rather we taste it because it is beneficial to the health of the grain, the atom, the humour.
Like how a communication or a message is being exchanged between states, between frequencies, and how in the refined tuning, the content is deciphered and read. The Lights, darlings, can only, in their connaissance save of themselves — Birds of a feather do only flock together as the seemingly wealthy only mingle emulating nothing more than the veils of darkness itself. Everything else is tediously nouveau riche, vieux monde, and vanities … chapters after chapters after chapters. Lifetime after lifetime, incarnated or transcended.
I forgot the spoiler alert. But please add one here so that when you re-read it, you’d hysterically stitch before arriving to the next para. When the mundane thinks that the Stranger is too engrossed in the sleep and perceive not the signs from within the dreams itself, or of it’s nature, and perhaps not reacting towards a positive reaction, pending the severity of the scene, she will not be saved yet without her, salvation is but a laugh.
Who craves for salvation?
Of course, the story could be far worst … it could literally destroy humanity completely, and although the humans may not have an inclination to any past memory or anything conceivable let alone the knowledge of their very existence to decipher that of the arcane, would they have the disposition to question the meaning and purpose of their forms, let alone it’s isomorphism to everything in the tapestry?; let’s just assume that the light of their intelligence, whatever of it that’s left in the terrestrial realities, assuming they are not golems, and have the entrails to differentiate the states between reality and insanity, is still there … intact and are able within itself, to decipher and to read of the vibration and it’s state of silence.
Mouthful yes? That is why even the simplest is ofttimes read as complex in the Garden. It is not because that it is not there that the slaves are impoverished. If humans had truly understood the darkness, they would have left the world untouched. We have a saying in the Garden, but I shall spare that to these seemingly, although not necessarily, sophisticated civilised urbanites as can be inferred generally of course, obviously having not attained (to realisation), hence the cries of the lamentable (golem) in the playpen of destruction.
Zionism, as in Communism and Nazism is a dead system. Game over — Get over it. Cannibalism is barbaric and unwritten in the future state. The future has no need for such doctrines, state, conditions or principles, nor does the idea appealing to Lucy, Medusa or even Isis. It must be very difficult to kneel and submit to humility when all the while overbearing arrogance has been the umbilical cord connecting to the aleph in its nature hasn’t it?
The end of Zionism starts here. In the two thousandth anniversary of genocide — Enough is enough! If you must serve the divine, or whatever state otherwise, at least do it with dignity. Watch, observe and implement the building blocks — the future state is not of the imagery. There are realities even in the illusive holographic template, one that if employed with power, will reveal under it’s veils for whatever purpose, the beauty, of Life. The beauty of the Soul. The beauty of Light. A thousand years of battle is nothing without this Light, without this Beauty, without this understanding … there is no freedom without true power, and beauty.
Without living the impression, without understanding it’s purpose — even the fires have dreams and the desires of one day, metamorphosing into light.
The Return is in the unification, the non-dual state. And it is a story to be read and lived, to be understood, to be adopted as the light that paves therein the Night. But like all children, one’s fire first has to be transformed into a matured, refined state, whilst to repeat the accursed routine the paterfamilias went through because it was the norm then is not in favour since the past had evolved with enough pretence and veils that of the original intention, masquerading and becoming a tad outré. Instead of smartly piecing the jigsaw the fractals in the story, more divisions, and fragments were conceived … the very opposite of what ought be; because it was, and still is so much easier to show and instigate tantrums, on the pretext that the generations today are much better off than theirs, smarter and less subterraneous, and as the story unfurls, in the end, they are just as dullard as every other peas in the pod.
A tad stale isn’t it? What would Godfrey do after two thousand years … the blasphemy of such a long period to finalise a chapter? When the world insist on peace whilst a minute stateless state insist on war, what does it implicate? … when you are busy writing stories, when will you have time to unveil the next chapter of your journey towards this idea of freedom, of being stateless, homeless, and why do you need to build a momentum of sympathy so that the world is aware of your building your home on a land which belongs to your coloured and weaker sibling void of any weaponry to defend itself apart from stones? When you get trapped in the labyrinth, why don’t you just get out of it but instead incur destruction after destruction throughout the millennia?
One must be utterly tenebrious not comprehending the state of darkness and to insist snuggling in the bosoms of comfort, an impression of a state, of unveiling.
Must the world suffer because the star refuses to awaken? Or is it because one believes being awakened that the world has to suffer? What memories, legacy would these sophisticated humans leave the children when the children are the ones they’ve removed the most … if they can kill their own genus, what more, of humanity?
In the oceans even the Suns and Moons reveal that of the hidden – one must be illiterate even with a plethora of paper degrees hung on walls to not be able to read. Tis sad isn’t it? When will they have time to read the universe, and how did they end up therein? When will they realise the significance of each insignificant connection on their journey? How will they understand the significance of that one month within the eleven of the year, and how they, needed to necessitate the non-cohesiveness of the bands of the Saracen and it’s coterie and that of the Caliphs when the fire has engulfed, and consumed them?
Another two thousand years? Surely they jest!
Darlings it’s not in their unification that you will be spared of the fun, the deviations, the ostensive influence and the masterminding. You bloody know this too well how it will all end in the story don’t you? The consanguinity to the arcanum cannot be severed no matter what, and it is not how this is to be completed. If you must steal a piece of land, to have control over the two rivers, can’t it be undertaken in a civilised manner instead?
Genocide is not the answer. It never has been or will ever be. If you must commit suicide, here’s the rope, but we’re not here to watch you extract that which does not belong to you in the first place.
Being godless does not give one the fantasy to destroy even if one has the means to do so. Unless of course one has forgotten what one has started fighting for in the first place, and the reasons as to why one journeys toward the Kingdom, toward the light. By dismantling the bricks that hold a city together you only create more unnecessary stories in the fractal, and the fragmentation. The species, the form, the imagery, must comprehend what it is first foremost designed for, and why. Why do the ancients write in imagery? Why do the Gods leave languages instead of empty pages to a tome?
For what purpose is communication? When will you realise the importance of the breath, the moment? … and how, within a two thousand year period, by fabricating a veil over the shadows of the night, you as a collective have added a notch in the arcana, that which was inconceivable and unnecessary to complete the journey as the Chosen, in the Kingdom. Being the Chosen is a state of the spirit. Not a state of acquisition, actus reus or of stolen property.
Unnecessary vanity. Such a waste of time, and resources.