Apocalypsis

Standing on an empty road on the outskirts of my hometown, I stared at the starry heavens, and thus said:

-‘The monoliths are beaconing us back home, light years away, so many world-systems unknown thrive around the mighty stars.’-

One intelligencer was dispatched from Jupiter, as it arose in splendor by the moon. At night reminded of the Numinous through faraway stars, at day by the homestar I was awed.

Perceiving in vertical metaphysics, if we may, the worlds of numinous fire as represented by Suns justify the might of the movement of galaxies. A giant shadow pretended to move a star, I politely suggested to uncover the mighty pulsar that was parsecs away with an airborne thought.

Egyptians used to write letters to their ancestors, sending them to stars, the Shining Ones that were in the golden field of Yaaru.

In horizontal physical objective science this space seems to be cold, eerie and full of horror. It is.

Inasmuch as we hypostasize proportionally to the metaphysical one, it is as Divine in metaphysis as cold, horrendous, gargantuan to our small being.

Even if once, we felt the extreme of extreme space of atmosphere and air, interplanetary zones, and cosmic voids while stranded in a small organism – in a human body.

There was a flash of some faraway being majestically appeared in the night-sky all in silver, nobly drawn characteristics of an elongated mask, a different master. When I returned to my flat, I worked throughout the night. I was taken by anger and wrath and uttered terrifying filth, until I contained myself. Lucifer, morning Venus was rising, a lady robed in white and gold garments appeared, semi-translucent and beautiful, aetheric. I felt humane love, merciful, mild and gentle moving through my body, mind, feeling, as if it would be the gist of my blood and thought. I was grateful and comforted.

The comfort of this reality, the harbors are the effect of the mastery, or the delusion of mastery over this world. Surrounded by space, we are much worse off then an primeval man in unexplored nature. The participation mystique of the ancient man was entwined with participation cosmique  – that is a thread running through our young race too.

At omega point, it is all the same, space does not exist, all is either absolutely terrifying, or absolutely divine in a cosmic and chaosmic manner – e pluribus unum. The Monad is absolutely honest. My Earthly love incarnated into my body, strong female wings felt on my back, we smiled together. “I miss you” I thought silently. She nodded and stayed with me for a while.

I recalled a story.

The thunderstorm was nearing, with its life-rejuvenating mighty rains. The man stood nearby and looked at her, too, joining reluctantly at Vedika’s sport. He turned towards mightier creatures, these victims of their competition, and opened his mouth to Vedika in a slow, well-weighed thought:

-“Don’t you think Chuan Tzu was right? That a sparrow does not believe a falcon of how far it flies and what it sees, but it is never quarreling over the falcon’s right or sight, neither it is jealous or sick of envy.”-

Vedika shirked her arms, and smiled. Upon notice it splendidly danced around the garden, when it was happier it shone blueish and bright green, little garden spirit – she thought:

-“It’s all that it had – it was joyful that anyone noticed it’s garden, it was grateful for a hint of an embracing look.”-

She noded her head and said, as if comprehending the whole being of the spirit, her lifeblood was guarding and rejoicing at the greenery in the city, it was the only thing left.

It was not concerned about the world of men, as long as her garden was well-attended, and as long as no one destroyed or took a single thing of the garden. He continued his rant, she was more occupied with the spirit and the garden, congratulating her on the work of art. The spirit shone brighter.

-”And, is it only the world of men that turned everything into illusory world of envy and hatred, and taught other invisible worlds this disgraceful behavior?” – he pondered.

-”Or was it some force that understanding humans in such a way, made them so? For when even sub-lunary spaces contest the stars and stardom, living under the mighty Sun, are they not ignorant, but to destroy anyone who opposes, is it not a wicked scheme?”.

She turned to him, and the spirit wanted to hear her words:

-”Remember what you once said, it is only your perception, don’t let it mislead you, the wrinkles and character of a man or woman is seen in their old age in their physiognomy, so is the wisdom, why don’t you leave it to itself?”-.

He wanted to protest, but let it silently past, and grinned at her and the spirit, bowing towards it and thinking conveying the gratitude for the garden next to a block of housing, and uttering words of praise of how beautiful it is.

Creating and re-creating these scenes, as in a loop the old man laid on a bench in the park and in a flash remembered again, looking towards the stars. Might he see her face again, brilliant silver in the stars, with a tear running down her old painting, missing her from afar? They called her lady lovelace, in good times, before, before.

 

Entries for Eternal Migrator Papers: Practica vol. II