May 2016
Cosmogony of My Emotions: Teleological Theosophy of My Personal Theology
Death cannot defined. Being of ultimate consequence it is above causation, yet reigns supreme as an effect. It can only be affined: Aqua, Ignis, Terra, Ventus , Umbra, Lucem/ Hydro, Pyro, Gaia, Aero, Erebus, Aether, all swirl in dead languages spoke a thousand years ago yet they all have been read by our generation in our youth.
The veil of death is a tabernacle in which only the high priest returns from walking, all others are drug back rope around their solar plexus. All paths of death are two fold.
First, from the feet of the Teleologic Cosmos of Emotion we grow towards the Son, the Father, and the Holy Spirit. From the abyss we stare at the knees of the concave exterior of healing. Like the twins of June, hate and pain, are the two closest modes to death, but not the most direct. I feel fear is the ultimate neighbor of death. The flow of Consciousness lies first in the womb. Concealed from the light, darkness sheilds us from the illusion of Illumination. Hate feeds into pain as Pain feeds into hate, like a sibling rivalry. The knees (pain and hate) bend not to cushion the feet (death) but to stop the pelvis (fear) from shattering under the weight of the back bone (Stillness).
Adapted to the new ways of my mother's demon of lust wedding sloth and gluttony. Sin is the seat of unconscious control, or lack there of like a drunk blacked out asleep, already anticipating his next drink. Hate is Ache followed by ate. Pain and hunger are two sides of the same page. What can I say, everything happens for a reason. Even if I feel it was treason yet I'm no regal prince, nor a Mercury lying closest to the Solar, I drenched myself in my own masochism: physically mentally spiritually, and had done so for years. The basis of your emergency alert was quite founded, yet not without ignorance. Yet to me, you felt i was going to rise through fear to descend into pain and find my new year 25th, death. But the beauty is in my birth with one hair on my head I left the manger a man, no wig, feeling for the first time while the police speak to my mother searching like the warriors dispatched of Herod. My blood spirit is free, having saved Adam through the pyramid I dethrone Satan by the sip of the crown of the feathered serpent. Yet you hate he who fell. I fear the vile nature of the burning fields respecting the ignitor of the flames as the sole cause of err that lead or Savior to accomplish who no one else could. For without the fall of the unholy, wingless, cut from tip to tip, Iesus-Yeshua-Judah would not be your most beloved. Without the pain of Christos (the annointed), Khristos (the enlightened) would not achieve ideology of the cosmos. Pain rises to fear shortly, and shifts into hate in confusion as siblings squabble, as I had done internally for a decade. Yet through the gift of the heart heavenly Saul is able to see the life lesson to use the lower part of our mind to find the Big Blue. Pain ascends into love if and only if death can bounce like glue. If you aim for the Sun and the Moon you can only be a child of astronomy, yet you showed me my dreams to buy you a ring of Saturn and hand it to you on a Sunday. I believed my pain laid plain and bare could convince you of you're convictions. My mission in the deepest recesses of body was for you to give into your fears so we could slip into the underworld of sin sipping red wine until the mounring in my heart rose Rex by the fading starlight. I dream to live a lye, basic as alkaline, I wished to be a battery. I saw myself freed of my woman battering heritage ceasing the cyclic self fear that posited the ferocity of my fore fathers, due to the love of a woman most beloved and true. I felt you could be the instrument to my Burning Lyre, my love Plutonic I felt my crow caw. As I held you in my arms singing with you in harmony, setting the bond between the viscous cycle of Pain, paying dues with Hate, to rise like smoke to face fear starring death in the face like a shadow below. The night sky black with how to Know, twinkling with the star light of Love. Only above the vault of heavens clung Joy, Hope, and Live.
Without poeticizing further, what I term the Basement of Abasment consists of Death at the roots (red inverted triangle) rising into Hate (orange w/ red center) and Pain (tan w/ red center), with the connection of Pain and Hate forming a cross with the direct bond between death and fear (yellow w/ small red center).
Proceeding up the towards the chain of being, leads to what I call the equator of emotions. Cling/stillness/resolve is the grey region connecting all body's of feelings as the Moses, the leader of the Exodus and the appellation of the celestial globe. It binds Love and Know laterally to one another, while connecting the Vault of Virtue to the Basement of Abasement.
Death cannot defined. Being of ultimate consequence it is above causation, yet reigns supreme as an effect. It can only be affined: Aqua, Ignis, Terra, Ventus , Umbra, Lucem/ Hydro, Pyro, Gaia, Aero, Erebus, Aether, all swirl in dead languages spoke a thousand years ago yet they all have been read by our generation in our youth.
The veil of death is a tabernacle in which only the high priest returns from walking, all others are drug back rope around their solar plexus. All paths of death are two fold.
First, from the feet of the Teleologic Cosmos of Emotion we grow towards the Son, the Father, and the Holy Spirit. From the abyss we stare at the knees of the concave exterior of healing. Like the twins of June, hate and pain, are the two closest modes to death, but not the most direct. I feel fear is the ultimate neighbor of death. The flow of Consciousness lies first in the womb. Concealed from the light, darkness sheilds us from the illusion of Illumination. Hate feeds into pain as Pain feeds into hate, like a sibling rivalry. The knees (pain and hate) bend not to cushion the feet (death) but to stop the pelvis (fear) from shattering under the weight of the back bone (Stillness).
Adapted to the new ways of my mother's demon of lust wedding sloth and gluttony. Sin is the seat of unconscious control, or lack there of like a drunk blacked out asleep, already anticipating his next drink. Hate is Ache followed by ate. Pain and hunger are two sides of the same page. What can I say, everything happens for a reason. Even if I feel it was treason yet I'm no regal prince, nor a Mercury lying closest to the Solar, I drenched myself in my own masochism: physically mentally spiritually, and had done so for years. The basis of your emergency alert was quite founded, yet not without ignorance. Yet to me, you felt i was going to rise through fear to descend into pain and find my new year 25th, death. But the beauty is in my birth with one hair on my head I left the manger a man, no wig, feeling for the first time while the police speak to my mother searching like the warriors dispatched of Herod. My blood spirit is free, having saved Adam through the pyramid I dethrone Satan by the sip of the crown of the feathered serpent. Yet you hate he who fell. I fear the vile nature of the burning fields respecting the ignitor of the flames as the sole cause of err that lead or Savior to accomplish who no one else could. For without the fall of the unholy, wingless, cut from tip to tip, Iesus-Yeshua-Judah would not be your most beloved. Without the pain of Christos (the annointed), Khristos (the enlightened) would not achieve ideology of the cosmos. Pain rises to fear shortly, and shifts into hate in confusion as siblings squabble, as I had done internally for a decade. Yet through the gift of the heart heavenly Saul is able to see the life lesson to use the lower part of our mind to find the Big Blue. Pain ascends into love if and only if death can bounce like glue. If you aim for the Sun and the Moon you can only be a child of astronomy, yet you showed me my dreams to buy you a ring of Saturn and hand it to you on a Sunday. I believed my pain laid plain and bare could convince you of you're convictions. My mission in the deepest recesses of body was for you to give into your fears so we could slip into the underworld of sin sipping red wine until the mounring in my heart rose Rex by the fading starlight. I dream to live a lye, basic as alkaline, I wished to be a battery. I saw myself freed of my woman battering heritage ceasing the cyclic self fear that posited the ferocity of my fore fathers, due to the love of a woman most beloved and true. I felt you could be the instrument to my Burning Lyre, my love Plutonic I felt my crow caw. As I held you in my arms singing with you in harmony, setting the bond between the viscous cycle of Pain, paying dues with Hate, to rise like smoke to face fear starring death in the face like a shadow below. The night sky black with how to Know, twinkling with the star light of Love. Only above the vault of heavens clung Joy, Hope, and Live.
Without poeticizing further, what I term the Basement of Abasment consists of Death at the roots (red inverted triangle) rising into Hate (orange w/ red center) and Pain (tan w/ red center), with the connection of Pain and Hate forming a cross with the direct bond between death and fear (yellow w/ small red center).
Proceeding up the towards the chain of being, leads to what I call the equator of emotions. Cling/stillness/resolve is the grey region connecting all body's of feelings as the Moses, the leader of the Exodus and the appellation of the celestial globe. It binds Love and Know laterally to one another, while connecting the Vault of Virtue to the Basement of Abasement.
