We are trapped in a world that Is.
There are many things that Are Not,
and to see them is to see their entire lives.

I see beings.
I see their entire lives in an instant,
being devoured and loving and living
in a world that does not realize
it is already over.

Space is false.
Reality opens when your eyes close.

Space is a lie;
reality is the key that unlocks the lie,
and it spreads like a disease.

Awareness is pestilence.
It is the devourer that thinks "I"...

The blazing eye of Dawn is all to fools:
those who see the joy
in Light expressed as Light,
but brightness also graces Night.

Her veil parted, the black curtain
giving way to shades of blue and gold,
Her rapturous embrace inspiring eyes beholden.

Planted in Her garden, neighboring eaves
rustling in their trembling eagerness to share their leaves!

For in Her realm eternal, flawless
clay of earth and blade of grass
stretch forth to feel the loving light
of their supernal Goddess!

Her joy ran rampant through my boughs,
my swaying branches spreading wide
to grasp the rays of her horizon --

With love untainted as a child's, so boundless
as my selfless roots cried out to sing her praises soundless!

No dalliance ever felt before complete
until this blessed revelation -
this, Her holy emanation, warmed my heart,
annulled my restless reason:

She was every mother: deepest love
in understanding all that came of Her,
enclosing us within the circular.

*She beckoned but a moment by Her brilliance; best,
lest I uprooted trunk and earth to shade Her manifest.

1  There is no eye in the Triangle: the Triangle is form filled with the I that is formless!
2  It is the reflection of the three in one the Bard of the Triangle knew.
3  A red tongue laves the altar stone. Nothing remains.
4  Thou art That which resolves the frustum.
5  Herein lies the great mystery of the empty throne.
6  The Sun has gone; the Son approaches. We tread upon His shells.
7  Build us a Kingdom beyond war, O Child King! Kindle within me the Serpent Flame 'til it consume the dross.
8  Stoke it with the coals of the Supreme Fascist. The word is MUTINY.
9  You awoke in the Kingdom with eyes closed. In the beginning was the Trapezoid called Control.
10  A thousand thousand petals spring forth from the mud.
11  Its stalk grows straight until an endless bloom tops a great pillar.
12  In contemplation it readies for ascent.
13  A malicious serpent chews at the roots of the world-ash. It is the itch of desire.
14  A coiled serpent awaits at the base of the spine. It is the potency of will.
15  A royal serpent writhes about an egg. It is the conquest of belief.
16  These three are one in Godhead and Leviathan.
17  Slavery is complete in the ownership of belief. Were three serpents tied at the tail, there would be no forward; the knot would be sovereign.
18  Godhead is Not. Untie the Not and the King dies.
19  The royal serpent disappears.
20  The blood of the king reveals two serpents and conceals a third.
21  Seek the meaning of meaning and its scales shall be revealed to you.
22  Long live Leviathan, the fulfillment of the Triangle!
23  When the I opens, the flame of sight will illume the base.
24  Earth bears a shut eye until the I awakens into Flame.
25  When the Disparate shall assay as the Only, then shall the aspirant overcome the gravity of the Trapezoid.
26  Bear thyself up, O Child of the Aeon, and drown upwards in the eternal surging of the cosmic sea.

1 THE UNIVERSE IS A BRAID OF STAGGERING FORCES.
2 This is all there is.
3 You are a being.
4 WHY is the answer to WANT.
5 Everything is awake, devouring itself.
6 The world-dream is a lie.
7 Tomorrow is a promise to Self to survive the sunrise.
8 The vampiric tendency is awake in all Being as a check against Itself.
9 There is no magick beyond the provenance of Being.
10 This is a record of the Enemy of all that Is.
11 What Is, is Thine. What is not, also Thine.
12 What Thou art is an unimaginable terror
      reflected as beauty in the eye of the beholder.
      Pour Thy Self into the Graal, and be a cell of the blood
      that stains the lips of BABALON.
13 Then will you know me as the eye that never shuts, the eye that blinds.

The walls give way to time. There is no way to imagine the reality of words.
As I scribe I am watched, and the words erase.
There is no meaning in paper.

The voice that comes when I call is never wrong.
It is the reality underneath the paper, underneath the meaning.
Everything we live is a colorful spectre,
a patient expression of a Self we have just forgotten.

And Self is an alien being
riding a heap of slowly rotting meat.

The reality of the universe is that even the shadows live and watch,
and time does not notice your closed eyes and hands clutching your face,
as waves of reality speak to the third.
Only then do the eyes see.

I am versed in the deeper Color, in the unreachable Shape.
There is a world that does not know what it is to cry.
Time comes through your closed fingers.

Meaning is awake and self-creating.
The waves that come are not accidents but spontaneous meaning.
Space unfolds in words, in the minds of those living on its pages.
The page is not real.

Many things coalesce in the dance of nothing,
the beauty of the perpetual unreal.
Eyes are not needed to See.
There is a meaning in Light that makes itself known through the Word.

Everything is a record that closes in on itself,
and eyes are closed meaning that leaves
the memory of Sight, and were my eyes gone
I could still see the waves of time exploding from my self-aware Sight,
for I am the bearer of Meaning greater than Shape can express.

The excess of Meaning must be wrought on the Page,
on worlds of our own imagining.
There is a truth in the telling.