Manifesto

[unknowing]

@Meno_

And now the deluge?

yes,
what else?

[Meno2 (Meno_)]

@unknowing

@Meno_

And now the deluge?

yes,
what else?

Salvage anything worth while.

Slumber takes root.

[unknowing]

nice

[Ichthus77 (Ichthus77 (formerly She™))]

@Meno_

Can you go back?
Get back. But how to is the big if.
You can go back, if you once were there, it doesen’t have to be real getting back, it could work meta-phorically, but you have to have to

Go back.

It is a leap, every time you go back you leap. Leap
into that which some call the other reality parallel to
this. How to establish parallelism, even if.
It has to be invented, because man, we are multi dimensional. We can exist on many simultaneous
levels at once, for which the guilt of birds need not
prevail on man for wanting to fly like them, they fly effortlessly, we consume thousands of gallons of fuel.

Now one thing though: we don’t have to feel guilt about going back, we will not become backward on that account. We glance there, and then with horror realize
what guilt we lost. Not guilt, but gold. Gilded with gold, etched individually in sacramental hand made ink, codex under a glass, gilded paradise,

Sharing momentary bliss of so many ,any ways of looking at a blackbird that it confounds the mind.

In this way fear abate somewhat, porous I become You, pray tell how to overcome this as undesirable.,
To manage like code to write in Pond, as Pond.

At the extreme vertex of the pyramid of love, you
simply have to spring into the unknown, that
unknown from which begotten, not made in the image.
Of the father shall you, whose embrace, you merely
apprehend as a ghostly breath whispered upon a cold
slab of glass.

Of which are you made, the porous you which
consisting mostly of elements, or, the elemental
breath, of long forgiven god head?

It’s strange they say, so strange, the season of the
witch, upon whose altar you have sacrificed
everything, for she is the inverted pyramid, the soul of souls, the life of life’s, for whom to die a thousand fold, would be an honor?nothwithstanding,

Reflect on this and go beneath the surface, slink through it’s pores into the divine , where you lost your
self sometime, lost but again, found
along the way, and see anew the all, you are, the all of eternity, to whom nothing is forbidden,
Everything is allowed, for any denial would be at this
Point,
a travesty, a sacrilege screaming toward the high embankments of heaven, where everyone you become at once especially those in his image, sharing
in a phantasm extasis of poesy, remembering every
nuance made, an abstract being to be sure, and yet:
Holding on.

Fear now that, which you are now,
And the same as you will, to become) .?

How can you, when it is happening under your very eyes.

Do not fear, anything, especially that ridicule which deconstructs that which previously stood so proud, and needed the breath of life unto it again to
Seek, to become.one.

[Meno4]

I have learned a lot of things dice, of jumping and facing the eternal, cosmic absolute possibility of anything, where that absolute consists of the atomists’ contention , that in case it transcends into a zero plus world of singular exclusion, singularly deconstructed form of t singularity constructed of infinitely variable souls, that simply are indistinct from each other, where, that is how coming in fear going out, into an egoless state from an egoless state, that passage or existential jump into the fearful nothingness that really is full,
full of that something that becomes everything, that they speak of enlightenment everyone yearns for, that painfully feared passage -has to be faced, through the phobic crisis, through the timeless reincarnations and , and right now would like to reform my claim that where there istheir mechanis evolved
In counterparts, the imitation of the one, and the realization that it never becomes the original, but returns to its original form’s coincidence. The original is distinct even though its separation is i apparent to the reverse engineered eternity of the anthropomorphism of the image of the father.

The Faith can never deconstruct and the soul never rehabilitates, conjunctives, that process begs It’Self, it could not be constructed as an evolutionary principal unless iit’s noted that if there is smoke, there is fire, and it all started with an innocuous dream, and this claim has ground,

I’m definitely writing this not to earn accolades, in fact Meno is but a receiver to signals putting it out, not for proof of personal credulity, but something more, so carrying it to the limit that last men are determined to carry on, excludes the contentious nihil of having choice in the matter the first place,

Ishthus , I had a dream, and I don’t have to get back to it because it’s continually obliging.