The Flat Surface and the Globe
And so we come to the time when the hours cloak us ever-gently and evermore in creeping darkness. And the land immolates itself to create new seed and new issue for two seasons from now. But first must come the dying time. And we have seen this cycle before, in the lovely hourglass of waiting. Our feet still tread, though now we are so obscured that we can only see one foot in front of another. The whisper of those passed on and passed by cause us to reach out our hands in welcome, with slightly morbid thoughts of greeting a beloved from the Other Side.
And I am able to see this in my flat mirror surface, though slightly concave, so not flat at all. And I see it in the crystal globe, or what they call the globe of the world. It has a taste, a smell and a feeling, all radiating out from the radio station of synaesthesia and Divine synechdoche. As above, so below. I see a vision of this constantly. In the time-kissed faces of you, in which aging makes a sketch of gradual death-mask.
Now my feet are sore from walking and my stomach hurts from receiving in all these things I cannot control. It is not like the old days, when I was asleep. I wonder who else in my family, this family of life, this family of humans, watched and was awakened. Our sacrifices are clear and visible, every one of them. There is no denying our former state with the help of the flat surface and the globe. We cannot refute the testimony of what we see. I am humbled by fact and fate. There are some courses that we simply cannot alter. They represent the Mind's lust and the Universe's lust for That Which Must Be and That Which Has Always Been. We love to blame our quirks on fate and our passions on Destiny.
I see it in the flat surface and the globe. So the players play it out on the stage of this globe.
Who knows? I only know the messages that I am sent. I deliver The Future into your hands.
And I am able to see this in my flat mirror surface, though slightly concave, so not flat at all. And I see it in the crystal globe, or what they call the globe of the world. It has a taste, a smell and a feeling, all radiating out from the radio station of synaesthesia and Divine synechdoche. As above, so below. I see a vision of this constantly. In the time-kissed faces of you, in which aging makes a sketch of gradual death-mask.
Now my feet are sore from walking and my stomach hurts from receiving in all these things I cannot control. It is not like the old days, when I was asleep. I wonder who else in my family, this family of life, this family of humans, watched and was awakened. Our sacrifices are clear and visible, every one of them. There is no denying our former state with the help of the flat surface and the globe. We cannot refute the testimony of what we see. I am humbled by fact and fate. There are some courses that we simply cannot alter. They represent the Mind's lust and the Universe's lust for That Which Must Be and That Which Has Always Been. We love to blame our quirks on fate and our passions on Destiny.
I see it in the flat surface and the globe. So the players play it out on the stage of this globe.
Who knows? I only know the messages that I am sent. I deliver The Future into your hands.
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