One friend said our true image is a little blob of light and color.
We’re just an energy field.
What I’ve tried to look for is forms. The lower astral.
Forms of good. Forms of danger. Forms of benefit. Forms of knowledge.
Even though I know that forms are inferior to raw pure energy,
just like a bacteria is superior to a human for certain aspects of survival,
but forms have their place.
Forms. There are endless forms.
When reality is at any unity of space, there comes a form.
My best form does not hold any physical power.
It seems that the finest of unities, the unities that I had wanted most, cannot bear themselves in the underworld.
When a soul dies it becomes flesh.
This degeneration and curse, that we would kill for we want it so badly.
To stay conscious, to stay informed, even though a dreamless sleep is the worst thing they see as their enemy.
The conflict yet the union between awake and asleep.
Awake and asleep are two gods, two realms, two states, two elements, and yet also they are one.
Places of death have some of the most interest, hungry souls, burning holes.
Eyes, they bare such evil when they meet the other twisted consequences of the mother source.
Twisted consequences.
Life. God. Self. This is in our eyes, blindingly. We need the sun but we can’t look at it directly.
Too close too far and you are dead.
This hook in the mouth. The life, the hook. Cell society, cry city, yes and no indefinite.
Lies. Lies are the majority. They hold the world’s power.
My best form. He’s weak. He’s so powerful, but he’s weak.
You see, the world has 1000 veils and filters.
Inside your head is 1000 veils and filters.
Life is blessed when it’s independent. Even if they gotta keep eating, it’s bliss.
All born are sick. The illness rolls like a bunch of stones and rocks, small and large, falling down on us.
Nature, she allows anything. That is the world. The world of anything allowed within possibility.
Nature cares for nothing. No matter who dies or when, she does not hold up a funeral or a memorial.
Nope. No she does not listen to our wishes.
Life and magic are alike in that they want to combat fate and lower state.
How it feels when you got nobody and you are around for 10 years.
Animal life can be like that. But imagine if you were happy all the while.
Although reality doesn’t care about us, what happens when we start to care about reality?
It’s got no makers, no maintenance, the universe disproves god more heavily than any other thing.
When a man builds a world, he puts safety systems in place.
When god builds a planet, well, he doesn’t, but if he did, he throws together vast amounts of inert solids. It has no safety mechanism. What is its purpose? Does it make god stronger when he makes a planet? But there is no god.
If I built a planet, I’d definitely give it the ability to talk and compensate for things.
That’s not the case.
I’ve come from the world of “I want god”, this highest desire. The madness. Not that it is the best desire, or the right desire, but it was the highest.