The Folly of Blame

You were the fallen one I blamed

Irredeemable, offensive to my heart

A splinter in my mind, abhorrent to my eyes

Your mere existence torturing my own

Out of my need to annihilate you

To wipe my world clean of you

And thus achieve utopia

A world liberated from the memory of you

I birthed a scheme: a drastic plan

A solution final, terrible and cold

And so I summoned by my Will alone

A Portal dark and fascinating overhead

A hole in heaven, beyond which lay

Dimensions distant, utter Hell

The regions where abominations dwell

A place for all the things that never should have been

For rejects of creation, by wholesome eyes unseen

My heart I sent to lie in wait for you

The bait I set just past the threshold

Instantly it took a form grotesque

And yet my machination held, I would not yield

So rigid was my Will to see this horror through

But oh! did fear and consternation strike

When, step by step, the mouth of Hell

Did swallow up my heart instead

And with each step, a path was forged

For unforgiving souls to blindly follow in my wake

And only once the realization came

As I lay gasping at the knowledge of my doom

Was all of it dissolved, another dream

To show me: I am Will, the world my mirror

And you and I shall never parted be

By knowing what perdition means

I am not fixed, nor are my debts released

But in the grace of loving kindness held

My heart can feel how liberation flows

And when the poison turns to nectar

Even monsters make their journey home

Traitors to Truth

We are hunted. We flee and hide from that which we fear the most. But time is not on our side in this hunt. Our time runs out eventually. The monster comes upon us. The terror finds us. That which has been exiled, buried, and denied demands to be seen as it is, demands that we address it by name, demands that we own it as part of who we’ve been.

The gears of time, from the heaviest to the finest, grind out truth and justice from what took root, sprung forth, and played out as error and imbalance.

Truth will be reconciled to itself. No part shall remain apart from its wholeness. Not even the most recalcitrant, unwilling stone will remain unturned. The lights will go on and we shall see what we shall see, according to what we have, until then, refused to see. This process accelerates in times of apocalypse.

Make your excuses. Put on your buffers. Hide behind your mask. Spew your righteous indignation, attack those who know and threaten to reveal your unseemly secrets. This will do you no good in the end. The inevitable cannot be put off indefinitely. You would be wise indeed to be prepared when the moment comes.

The foolish man built his house upon the sand. The winds and the storms and the waves did it in, whipping and wearing and pounding it into the insubstantial, oblivious dream of nothingness that it always was. Kali the Destroyer felt no pity, no sympathy, no remorse for what she did to the lies she was sent to undo. Her task was simple and ruthless: a divinely ordained ceremony of scouring, disarming, cutting, slashing, tearing, crushing, blowing to bits, flaying, decapitating, violating, dismembering, bleeding out, sucking dry, pulverizing, and scattering the remains of the ghouls, demons, and behemoths of abomination. All the while dancing her terrible dance, the unstoppable whirling of the implacable dervish of the consummation of the follies of a dying age, for a new age requires their transmutation.

Traitors to truth, tremble. The time of your correction is nigh at hand. Welcome it, for it is here to save and set free your undying soul from the shackles of dreamed-up nonsense in all its disguises. You may have the wind knocked out of you for days on end, gasping for breath as you struggle to assimilate the ugly truth. You may be stripped of things you’ve been holding onto for dear life. Your ego may wail and gnash its teeth. But it is for your own good. You will pull through, humbled and purified of encrusted layers of self-importance, self-interest, self-adulation, self-pity, and self-deception. The false self cannot stand, it must give way. Only then can the real you step forth.

Bon voyage to us all. Amen.