You know, the aeons of slavery to treachery,
the eternity of treachery’s humiliation of me
has not taken the music out of me! I hear it
whispering in the clouds, in the fields, in the
flowers all around me, like sonorous rainbows
that arise from the core of the Universe to heal me,
feel me and deal me the courage I need. In the eternity
of my patience, the music has become me. I can hear
four-and-twenty blackbirds for the King! In my hands,
I feel its (the music’s) strands, beckoning me to be the Joker, the Jack,
The Fool; to walk the hallways of destiny and deliver the
Judgement Card! You can all see that, despite my struggle, I didn’t
rot at the number 15 (or 58) of the Tarot, but embraced the Sagittarian in it,
not the Fish, who seeks to morph all the time to confound
me! I have the lyric of pure unlascivious life around me, even in death,
and in every resurrection. The bennu bird is the reflection of
the all-seeing eye that sits atop the crystalline gold pyramidion!
It (the Phoenix) flies once again, and once again, after every death
to mother the Universe and sacrifice for it, even though the
Universe itself was snatched away from the Phoenix. There is no sea
that can scourge the fire of reawakening. There is an involable
expostulation (from its grief) that emerges from God’s resurgent bird that flourishes
in intermundaneness as well as manifest corporeality. It grows like an Yggdrasil (world) tree
that entwines the dimensions while being rooted to its Godliness. The undergrowth of
creeping evil cannot sap it, cannot mildew it, cannot overtake it! You may always
hear its divine music if you are silent to hear the divinity of immanent presence.
Believe! God is wrathful only when his infinite patience is exhausted. There
is always a point in time when you can change the road you are journeying on, if you
wish to start afresh by making the enlightened sacrifice! It is not your fault for absconding
from the truth; it is the fault of all those treacherous villains!
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