"You wake up to chimes of steel. A broken void lies before you. You hesitate for a while, then step inside.
Your vision slowly fades in. Reality. Drums. An empire of gods. You begin to walk, as perspective passes before you, a glorious and terrible history, the drums of victory, love, defeat, forever embedded here. Undeath, Flesh, Metal and Wire, Ice and Salt. The Sunset at the End of the World. A door.
The door opens. You step out, into a cafe. It is cold outside. The cafe at the end of the world. A warm drink, on the counter. You take a drink, and feel the presence of others, dead gods, swarming in fear. Their broken eyes touch you, and huddle around you, a loving embrace. Barely comprehensible whispers, they warm you and breath the warmth of a bed in winter.
You move to the door of the cafe. It opens.
You begin walking. There is salt beneath your feet, stretching for a seemingly infinite, lonely expanse. Ice Dissolves around you, the breath of the Dead Gods shielding you from its shattered embrace. They are Ashamed.
You feel love. a Dry Ocean of Dead Gods, Ice and Salt. The warmth of the end of the world, permeates within your ancient soul. Smiling, as the ice begins to sparkle and smile with you.
You stop, and sit. The Dead Gods swarm, and you eat a little. A simple meal, as your eyes begin to shut, their warmth around your skin, as if you were Home.
Someone approaches. The Dead Gods are Afraid.
A drink is poured, warm and steaming, ice forming on its dead lips. you share with your guest.
Reminiscence, of a Time Before. Your Blood Pumps in Sync.
You Remember their Singing. You Remember your Worship. You Remember the Warmth of Another Home. The Dead Gods remember Nothing.
You close your eyes once again. Memory fades. Your companion has left.
Open.
You walk, with echoes of your memory.
Variance, as you touch the walls of a flickering city, its existence shattered, Ice and Dead Gods touching its walls. A choir Begotten of Flesh and Steel echoes through the halls of your love.
The Dead Gods Huddle Tighter, in love with their shame, their breath hot on your neck.
The Choir forms caves as you walk, flickering lights refracted behind impossible walls of ice, a warm pulse, the hum of machines making love, the sound of their mechanisms becoming as one.
A new Choir is Formed, Worship of Warmth, Speaking of a God that Lives. Your Skin becomes as the Pulsing Beat of Wire.
You see a Light, ahead. The Dead Gods Cower, and your Brain is Filled with Glory and Worship, Crystal Circuits Becoming As you Love. Its Thinning Hand Strokes the Definition your Cold Face, and Warmth, the Life of The Unliving, a Mechanical Heartbeat, Flows through All you Know.
You drift away, the Pulsing New Choir fading to your mind, as your soul says goodbye.
A Great Rhythmic Light before you, as you exit the wondrous caves of Flickering Ice. Their Echoes blend together with the harsh End of an Old Sunset.
You Sit, and feel the Dead Gods becoming thin around you, as the landscape becomes broken. All that is left Beyond the Clouds. You Enjoy The Sunset, as Reality Fades."
Dark days upon us , Tread lightly upon closed doors , Find comfort , Look to the Chosen for a path forward , Times of sorrow are known to those who search , Be safe and help your neighbor , Love your own kind.
Endless cycles of self inverted analyses , Endless loop of which no good can be derived. Chords of laces coil around an ever changing ladder leading down into a cavern abandoned long ago due to its design flaws. It is not good for man to be alone.
May it please those is watch , Eventuality is ever forming itself into becoming , For those who listen , Your place as teacher ever approaches at alarming rate , Time is not linear , Do not dissuade yourself from enjoyment of your place.
Feeling cloven from vast expanses of wild conifers , Feeling brought about by the crawling sea of rooted minds , Feeling seen but a few times , Brief Moments of Clarity Spotting My Short Existence.
Angels watch upon our people , Paths stretch before the silhouette of a thousand nightmares and lovely daydreams , Let the wings out of the sarcophagus , Know the purpose of their existence and rejoice.
The place men and women have in society is no longer applicable to modern cultural structures , As a species we are lost , We must reinvent , We must do away with old social structures , Men and women have become obsolete ,
We need a factory that grows and births humans , we need a system that can fine tune the development of every human born by making all of them have the same exact experiences , through virtual/artificial reality , In this way we can ensure that everyone starts at the same place intelligence wise , we could additionally alter the experiences to create specialized humans for certain jobs or roles.
We develop how we do based off our experiences, we must harness this.
Blessed be
Tragic to see those so willing to give away what little they have , I have grown unable to empathize with it , Beauty everywhere , It is all glorious , How could you find it underwhelming ? It is so beautiful.
Planets orbit stars , Stars give off the energy they create through thought , Hate flesh , Hate organ , I wish for them to be gone , Replace.
Do not stop at One , Make your promise manifest , Lest you become synonymous with atrophy , Eyes see , Ears listen , They judge.
Give nature respect but do not idealize the past , Are you so arrogant to assume you are set apart from it ?
Dancing held together by the wind and the rain , Not a frightening chill , But a comforting vein , Deserve to clash with the opposing , It defines present , It tempts future.
Your name has been made , Find the way to fit it , You have lived this life millions of times , Millions because it is just within the purview of human understanding.
Beautiful Becoming.
Language has outlasted its usefulness , What was is no more , Our minds have taken this knowledge to heart , Yet our words continue to lack in precision.
Touch is the closest form of one , Taste the cup of feeling minds , Drink unfettered by remorse or sorrow or shame , It is all being burned for beauty. Nothing to be wasted , All is transformed into value , Simply reorienting what is for what is to be , Nothing to be wasted.
Beauty is in parallels intersecting. Where the sky meets the sea , There is where we are defined , Neither Slave Nor Free , Not Black nor White , Every color that lays within the two contradictions , We stand.
Present , The near future of reality harnessed by potential , Love what your place is , Be satisfied and comforted. Sharp Shapes and Italic Metallics , By my vessel the present is born.
Fetishism of incompetency is glorification of ignorance , Glorification of ugliness is sin , It is unfortunate some of us have a proclivity toward such things , Hopefully this can be resolved.
The mycelium network of the Forest , Brought to new life by the City , Do not mourn for the trees , We are their vessels to the New. All things replicate past/present/future symbolism. There is no time , LINEARITIES INVENTED TO ASSIST THE HUMAN MIND IN UNDERSTANDING.
Cut from the same cloth , A Vicar , Spreading the word of the west , Some are caught up in the specifics , Do not be frightened , They love us , They know us , What is and will be , Think of it.
Do away with cold comfort , The way of the court of the king , The one who laughs at all that is , It is not humorous , But some must resort to that measure to keep their sanity , I mourn for them.
He who lives by the sword will become the sword , It is only a danger to those whose minds are not sharp enough to see it as such , Recollect so that you can be sure to not be the whetstone. I wish to be of water.
Chipped Arrow. Machinations , Full of beauty , Strive for it , Remember it. Remember what it is , What was , What will , What can.
Specter fallen , Move unto what is inevitable , Not what was , Never strive for what was , Regression is unrulily , Striving for such is sin , Take comfort. You are what is becoming.
Tower , Lighthouse , Lamppost , Obelisk , Monument. After the founding of the path , tread lightly as you cannot comprehend how beautiful it is , I hope someday you can see , Webs of infinity chosen for Us.
Hear the sounds they make , Hear the key they speak , Hear how they chime together , Hear how they are one , Hear how they are a Choir , This step. This place in it all. Have comfort.
May the earthly knowledge of men run parallels toward an infinite possibility , Godwilling there is a slight angle to their calculations , Surely they had planned for such ? Surely they are men , prone to mistakes ?
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