POEM: The Abdication of Da'ath

[pert -5]

The Abdication of Da'ath:
A Synthetic Juxtaposition of Jewish and Hindu Mysticism
[Being truly an exercise in suggestive fiction]

Think of that which makes you the happiest, that which makes you happier than anything else in the entire universe. Now, while this thing of happiness is in your thought, I will tell you that by its very nature this thing which you feel brings you happiness is but a mirage; a hollow reflection of that which is the Joy of pure consciousness. You see, we as humans are born into a world which masks a mass euphoria. As such we search our material existences to find the things that grant us happiness, only to find that when the conditions which cause this happiness are removed, as inevitably they are, we are no longer happy. We therefore become slaves to this 'conditional happiness', running here and there, grasping at evanescing shadows to stave off a perceived sadness. This is the generally accepted reality and a descending into illusion. Yes, I am quite aware that the average person reads these words and thinks me a liar or a fool.

On the other hand, all who HAVE seen this 'Vision of Sorrow' are given death. Now, know that there is the death of the grave, but also there is death. The first is common and is like the dulling of a nail or the flattening of a tire, it is a natural outgrowth and is of no true consequence. But the other strikes much deeper and goes unnoticed by other men. It befalls those that have had Saturn's scythe plunged suddenly into their hearts, and their hands and their eyes are made numb.

To those of you who would still call me fool, I beseech you not to look down too contemptuously. No small trial is it to leave behind those things that were so valuable and precious to you; even to walk yet amongst them in isolation, separated from them by a veil of Sorrow. This I assure you, whether I am a fool or no.

And thus, to those who pursue this 'Vision of Sorrow':

Willingly, you trudge on in despair.
At first a great Deceiver may appear, offering you poison, yea, great draughts of opiated venom with which to quench your thirst. You must unhesitatingly turn your back on Him and stagger on, even onward.
Eventually there will come the dissolution and desolation of the mind. The bastions of knowledge crumble to expose a Stygian wasteland of chaos.
The world becomes convolving darkness; the fire of the spirit is utterly extinguished.
Death. You are dead. Not even in heaven or hell or the promise of God is there the hope of respite. They appear to you as the mere extensions of the reality born of the base EGO; the most pernicious of illusions.
Here you can pray to the most knowing god, the most powerful god, biggest god... to no avail,
There is only the unequivocal termination of Self.
You can invoke the most knowing god; you can invoke the most powerful god; you can invoke the greatest god... but to no avail,
There is only the absolute extirpation of Self: Death.
You are dead.

Far off in the distance there appears a tiny light. As you slowly approach the light you are filled with understanding. The horrors that now beset you and the life that you claim to have left behind, they are both merely difference in perspective. There is no variance in their nature. The light expands as you draw closer. You begin to realize that joy and sorrow are not opposing ideas but are indeed distinct points of view of a single idea. Further, that this one idea is not different from any other idea, for they are all born of the same Source. Sorrow is extracted from joy only because we make it so by giving meaning to that which truly has none, for when the earth is no longer livable for man then all of the things that we think are the sum of importance will be gone, like dust. The only way to transcend the illusion is to see beyond the desires of the petty EGO and find that which pervades all existence and is not dependent on the apprehension of man. The light has grown much bigger now and nearly fills your entire field of vision.

You awake. You think to yourself that it was all a dream, but then the understanding comes flooding back into your mind. It was no dream. You go out into the world and look upon creation and desire naught and relinquish all, and thereby is a great Joy, an unmasked euphoria. You see men arguing over sand, and the color of sand, and the size and shape of their sand, but you no longer wish to join them. You see other men evoke their gods against the gods of their fellows, and shed the blood of their fellows in the name of their gods, but again you can not comply.

In your soul is the unadulterated, unremitting concourse of consciousness; freedom from the shackles of matter and the EGO. That is All.