The Image of a Voice December 19, 2005 @ 6:33 p.m.
Such a fire exists, extending through the rushing of air. Or even a fire formless, whence comes the image of a voice. Or even a flashing light, abounding, revolving, whirling forth, crying aloud.
I know there is Truth. I know there are greater forces and beings, manipulating and being manipulated by the world - for good, for evil, and other purposes. I have experienced enough not to question their existence - only their identities. God. Gods. Angels. Demons. Spirits. Servitors. How much is the image - how much the voice - how much the truth...
My mind spoiled me, then raped me, then left me, then returned to do it again. It gave me enough truth to be proud but hungry, wanting but picky. To see evidence and condemnation in everything - every history, every thought, every pattern and link, every possibility to infinity. Tornados whirling while I sit still, outside the fire.
You led me, and you vexed me, and you promised me, and you failed me, and you suceeded in bringing me the point of Absolute - the point of absolution. Now, to know you face to face, beyond thunder, and quakes, and dreams, and signs, and burning bushes and burning hearts, has become my destiny.
Formless beyond and within form.
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