Sermons on Bullshit: A delve into What the Fuck.
Across the ineffable expanse of an ice skating rink, the duality of humankind's conscious soul is laid bare for all to see. The frosted sea by which we fumble and fail houses the frozen dreams of many a prior innocent. Imagine if you will, one who sought the sight of the loved yet unloving, only to subject oneself to the utmost humility of the ice. If such a one was to theoretically seek such misery in the vain hopes of achieving some semblance of comfort, then which occurrence might be claimed worse? The lack of an appearance from a certain individual, or if the individual were to witness to your trials and tribulations? Such is the duality of your struggle made clear. Was there but a single outcome that might have held the comfort one sought? Then why seek it? Verily, the fields of the ice rink are an unforgiving metaphor for the dangers of love, nihilism, diabetes, and great many more. If the humanity within oneself wishes enlightenment on that which this madman might speak of such matters, then shove deep the words of this varied pondering within you.
When I was but fish, swimming down stream in accordance to the warm whisperings of nature, I happened to glance upon a stone falling from a tree. A fish of pacing, I was able to watch as from the stone a tree bearing a great many more was born. I saw then, from the scale-lense of my fish sight, that these rocks were as the eggs of Yggdrasil. All are as Yggdrasil, for within all lie the eggs of the earth, which bear eggs greater more. As I saw my fish flesh of scales recede to reveal that I was merely dust in the wind, I saw that as we are born of dust, so too are the rocks that support our lands. My fish dust of the rock of the egg of the tree of the earth blew in the winds of destiny, and by chance were devoured by an Eagle that was also Me. Spreading the wings of the former fish, the Eagle seared it's eyes on the light of moons beyond.
Who among the unenlightened has sat in wonder at the the beauty of the carefree stones? We are that which we see as we peer into the dark innards of the bones of our soul, yet even so we deny decadence whilst seeking it out. We hunger insatiably for that which we think is wrong, whilst also seeking what we truly want. If a distinction between the two exists, then one may be hard pressed to discover it. Regardless we suffer from all routes taken from all goals. Perhaps it is the burden of the sentient to gaze in wonder of the mindless stones, and weep that we carry their worlds burdens.
Speaking swift of the en-fished eagle of revelations, one may find comprehension dwindling. If we find confusion in these wise words, then by all means hang your ornaments upon the halls of your home on the holm. Seek relaxation in the knowledge that my truths shall flow, effervescent, into you, all in due time. Look back on what you possess and feel content that my teachings shall never leave you behind, but rather nestle deep within your enraptured will. Will. Such is that which you need not, yet take pride in. Do so without remorse, for you are that which feels with the heart of knowledge. Seek now the denouncement of ice skating.
Of the great Earth shits, there are many. The shitting Earth envelopes the unwitting. Our lands hunger, and seek our blood to fulfill the pacts of our ancestors. Think not of surrender! Look to the skies and see your future! The stars refuse to blink, wishing to gaze upon you for all the time that shall ever pass! March forth to our shared destiny, and unshackle your want. Want is all that we are, and we are the future. Therefor we want that which is to come, as we have already established. The encroachment upon these truths may be called Diabetes of The Bindings, for the blood sugar of our imprisonment runs thin even now.
Let me tell your vision a story. Once as I cartwheeled through the grasses of Your youth, I happened to witness a simple butterfly resting on a leaf. This insect lived a life of complacency, and I felt anger and denied it the chance to achieve anything but what it could. This is why the butter can not fly. But the bitter insect grew tired of its limited existence, and sought a means to deliver itself from itself. From this unholy quest was born the practice of card tricks, wherein a lost soul seeks to fill the void within itself through sorcerous witchery. Speak not to the condemned, for through my teachings you will come to learn of their tragic misgivings. Rather, seek to still your wandering mind and body with the esteemed act of walking in circles. Seek enlightenment. Do so in search of the twelve keys.
When the inferno of the envenomed deep calls for your name, answer only in denial. Speak quickly the inverse of your beliefs so as to confuse the Harbinger. Let loose your heart's aching, and decry the evils present for their involvement. The shame of the once noble Harbinger will flood the gateway with tears, and obscure the goals of the infernal. Use this opportunity to show the being your truest self reflection, and take safety in the reversal of its spheres. The gate will become the wall, and its keeper shall see who it was. Grab then you instruments of longitude and latitude, and direct the being to the accursed locality.
When you were merely this Author, there was a distinct lack of these words. This was amended when You were not the Author, but rather I. Given that every being on this earth might have inscribed these words at any time, yet failed to do so, then the existence of the individual purpose is shown to be self evident. Let not the common perception of the collective royalty deceive you, for there is a stark contrast between the breadth between Kin and Ken. The distance of one's personal relations and that of one's knowledge are as of yet too great to measure. Fuck jerry.