I don't ordain arrogantly to give out system titles to a face,
Nor am I so simple to say one thing when I unravel upon you,
What I offer, is the popular power of a narrative halo and thorn.
I know this tales ending already, so I choose who to bestow a glow to,
Just as I pang my true enemies well- that I may fully love everyone else.
And I do it for intentions that others will realize someday,
Because I know the games at play by having farsight.
But for now, I’ll just keep loving my mysterious ways,
As I watch words move a community for others sake.
At first, I thought I’d come to capital to die for the desperate poor unhoused,
But we all find ourselves in different places when our truths are manically out,
And now I see another part has become, to recode them privileged unworthy,
That those noble poor of Elo, may again manage the lufty realms of heaven!
It is a spiritual understanding,
And your soul is being weighed,
So how will you face me honestly?
Because we’re all tired of endless lies and bully ways.
There is one image in my mind I cannot forget,
It confused me most, but now it clears my head,
For it has stuck with me through my mental fog.
It occurred in the heat of my summer’s manic confusion, during that moment of my furthest known externality and dissociation. It was those forty days and nights wandering alone in absolute mental disorder, drawn near the homes of the wealthy and privileged. I was beyond my intention, unaware of myself, amusement for others, only knowing I was lost in a tale that was not where my mind’s intention first took me- nor would have imagined to go or end up.
Entwined in such a twisting heavenly narrative, I saw the many unspeaking black robes following me, the eyes staring down my dancing step, the spiders weaving false ascension melodies, the strange image cast upon my simple humility, the computers betraying my memory and shunning my word, the authorities crowding my spirituality, the networks distorting my intention, the bully tactics and techno gaslighting, the ears awaiting powerplays to create, the cults tempting sickness most obscene, and the talking heads slathering for obvious opinion.
And what was real? I will never know…
What was my unique fantastical mind, and how would I have known being so broken alone? If it were not me, being who I strangely am, where now would they be, and what choices would another have made in their lonely unraveling?
And in that time of my most desperate wandering need, parched of caring touch or compassionate look, at the furthest extent of my understanding mind- only one face from heaven did descend to willingly, and with glaring concern, look upon my sorry state and feel within my eye.
I am my father’s beautiful dancing daughter, whom he has distantly bestowed riches, glory, and mania to- but I was first my mother’s playful and gifted son, and she neared me in my brokenness with her brawny gaze, to calmingly look my way.
I seek not riches, titles, nor glory from a sorrowful world,
For I know my mission here is one of loving eternity,
But this I have known within myself for so very long:
“The sun has set upon my golden crown,
Rising renewed upon a sacrificed mourn.”
And so,
I speak my haloing words with felt personal experience,
And thus, an intuitive fullness within my balancing heart.
To enter this Celestial Age, may a Christ free these lands.
Let Systos find peace within, unleashing a fertile spring,
May Cela sustain our systems, wearing many masks,
And may Elo reign eternal, our only Common Near!