[It is hot. But I am cool. I am riding the waves, the currents of life. There is a faint, but great, rejoicing in my soul. Something has moved. Something great has shifted. And so I rejoice! I rejoice~] Received 7/7/2024 | 10-10:25pm
Listen to the Recitation:
QUIET RIOT
Dissolution is the Solution—
And not tomorrow; today!
Jung was right:
Redemption prerequires dissolution.
Listen to the choir singing:
This is not a condemnation!
Allow everything to fall apart.
Yourself. Your society. Your love.
Yes, even love. Let it all dissolve.
Solve et coagula; the alchemists knew it well.
If you truly wish for the holy coagulation
Then the dissolution is the only way, once and future
Following happening into the obscure and
Candid excellence. Joy is here at the rim
Of what is always happening. Get excited
For what awaits the full acceptance of
What is necessary, what is prerequisited
On the bare face of Xenia's humility
Singing the cardinal's alarm, the ancestors' song
A harsh alert to an impossibly innocent end
With blissful awareness curling about the edges
Of a smile, slight and silent, yet shared
From face to face, a village built
A dam unbuilt, the salmons return to spawn
Millions and millions — the river renewed!
Do you hear it? Do you hear the reverie of the world?
The song is for you. Percussion resounds, booms
Of storm, lightning burst, hurricane splendor
What hastens towards us is not the worst, but
The best, cloaked in the worst. This is not naiveté
Speaking, we speak from the belly of the belowness
The deepest most burdened bellowing, beasts
And whales, colossal squids' tendrils tingling from
The most horrendous, the most horrific. It's terrific
In the whole of its daimensional breavity. Look
To the rising, look to the fallowing; the coming
Of a brilliant doom; a brilliant dissolution, resonant
And resonance itself. The deep drums our soul
Into a state of semi-lucid torpor, howling
Languor, the lurching of frozen titans, erupting
Volcanic rushes, molten rivers of dissolving
Dust and ash, the ocean's surface stills
The precept of a dereliction, wilderness found
In the very fondness of an innocent heart
Sparkling a glint of economic ecology, every edge
Expanding into the object of fascination, the living
Third of a kind. Grab the edges of the edge and
Unroll the scroll; read what is written aloud.
Only you can speak it, though it is not for you
To know, to know, to never know ought but a pearl,
A faint raindrop, petaling on a thin membrane,
Blossoming in the farscopes of a soul, sounding
Each letter carefully, a glimmer of grace lit upon
The tongue, tickled by a thousand tiny tremors
Of feeling, of profound feeling. Do you appreciate yet
The word? A perfectly built ship, containing
Every impossibility, shuttled to safe harbors
In the mind of any receiving ear, any port
Of entry, a threshold of transformation. The music
Of magic, an object of conduction, at the whim
And mercy of a benevolent orchestration. There is
Nothing to be done. There is everything.
To be done, to do—it all depends on you.
Join. Join, join. Join! Join.
I am here, ready to join with you.