On Demons and Man

The Prophet, in his Divine Mission , first went into the Western Mountains to seek the council of its Adepts, great seers and magi who dwelt in a hidden city.

As he entered the Mountain, a great buzz and laughing rose up, carrying with a great swarm of colorful insects all bearing an identical grinning face. The swarm surrounded the Prophet, confusing him and nearly driving him off the path. The Prophet stopped; and took a deep breath, to the base of his belly, and blew it out; and the insect horde was swept away by the force of it.

The Prophet climbed higher into the Mountains, and soon came across a flock of bloody vultures,  all with the same face the insects had borne. Five in number were the gruesome birds, a flock of hate, and cruelty, resenting the Prophet and craving his flesh, indifferent to his Divine Mission, ignorant as they were in their conceit. They took wing and began attacking him, diving, scratching and biting as the Prophet struck at them in vain.

Most haggard were these vultures, starved and wounded; and seeing this, the Prophet was overwhelmed with compassion and sympathy. He stood still and calm, and stretched his arms wide.

“My winged brothers, thy sorrow is plain and thy need is greater than mine. Take my food to fill thy bellies and my robes to bind thy wounds. Take my flesh and blood as thou would need.” and so saying he cast forth his small supply of food, and cast off his robes. The vultures laid into the food greedily, and each began to shrink as it ate, until nothing was left of either food or vulture, and so to were their wounds upon the Prophet reduced first to scars, and then nothing.

Naked,  the Prophet continued into the Mountains,  his mind fixed resolutely on the City of Adepts.  Before long he came into a small canyon, flanked by high walls.  As he entered, a shadow overtook the canyon and a demon, howling and gibbering, sprang from the earth to block his way. The demon bore the same face that the insects and vultures had worn, upon a gnarled body which at the waist became a wolf with a scorpions tail.

The Prophet stopped in his tracks as the demon spoke, its voice like a howling wind. “Go no further! Dare you think yourself worthy of this Sacred Path? Foolish and foul creature, you are fit only for my belly!”

The Prophet turned to flee the the demon was behind him; turning again he addressed the demon.

“Begone, demon! Thou art feeble and have no power over me!” and filled with righteous fury he struck at it. The demon flung him back and laughed.

“Weak and pathetic art thou. Most despised of men. Go back!” it bellowed.

The Prophet rose, and suddenly an aroma filled his nostrils, the sweet smell of lotus; the source was a blue and radiant lotus in a small puddle off to the side of the path. Gazing into the puddle the Prophet saw a vision reflected, and his heart became clear.

The Prophet again approached the demon, its face filling him with love, his arms spread wide.  As he approached, he realized it was not as large as he had percieved; indeed, he found it no bigger than a mouse. It sat in his hand, squeaking ferociously. The Prophet kissed it on the head and then swallowed it whole.

And so the Prophet found himself delivered in a heartbeat to the gates of the City of Adepts.

On the Prophets of Old

Many Prophets have been; many are the Prophets and many are the Ways of them who have been. Many too are them who would claim to be the end of all Prophets, the final Word. Yet always more arise.  When asked of this, the Prophet said:

“Indeed, every Prophet believes truthfully he is the last, for he is the point where that line of Law and Divine thought becomes a living form; and the next True Prophet is the end of that line, for each is the Birth of the new Way, from the ash of the old, like the Phoenix of legend.”

It so happened that he sat by a stream as he spoke, dangling his feet in the water as he addressed the crowd of curious and faithful who had gathered to listen.  Quoth he

“Take this stream. Find you where it begins and where it ends.”

A bright young man spoke up quickly. “It begins in the mountains, in a high lake. From that single place this stream flows to a river to the sea, where it ends.”

“Indeed. And the river and ocean spray are warmed by the sun, the vapors rising to the sky.” the Prophet splashed with his feet mightily “and the vapors become clouds, drifting to the mountain and thence rain falls on the lake, and on a million other waters of the world, thence to carve out endless new ways and bodies of water.”

The youth, dripping wet, puzzled over this. “Is the Prophet then a river or an ocean?”

“He is where the lake becomes the river; and where the river becomes the ocean; and where the ocean becomes the cloud, so then are a million Prophets born to wet the world with the Wisdom of the Divine. Does any one raindrop know where the others fall or if it is the last raindrop? All waters should be grateful to the waters which first blessed them with their moisture, even as they keep moving ever onwards, striving not to that which has passed its time.”

Origins of The Prophet

The Prophet like all prophets was at first a man, in outward form seeming like any man. He drank liquor, partook of carnal pleasures, and shit the same as all men.

The Prophet was first directed one dark night in the shadows outside a tavern, lying bloody and broken by the violence of thugs sent to deliver a message about the case he was on. Eloquent were their fists, and so was he half convinced to leave it be.

“She has long been hidden and carried herself with cunning” spake the rain “and now a hundred claim her name and walk in plain day. But where is She? Among them or beyond them? Seek thou the truth of this and discover her whereabouts. Do this and thou shalt know a wealth such as many have dreamed yet few have ever known.”

The Prophet heard these words and the sound of them knit his bones and bound his wounds; He rose to his feet and stared up into the rain in wonder.

“I’ll take the case,” quoth he “I’ll find your missing dame.”

The Prophet Speaks

Filled with the drunkeness of the Wine of Spirit, the Prophet was checking his robes, ripping out every second thread to find the pattern woven.

“Ain’t nothing gonna harm me!” sayeth Him “You cannot kill what does not believe in death. Rip off my arm and it shall grow back; Kill me and you shall give birth to me a hundred times.”

He plucked a thread from his sleeve and his robe fell to pieces.

“So to is the pants of fate; a million threads make one and only one can undo all and so one becomes one million possibilities anew.”

Naked and giggling the Prophet ran through the streets, shouting in Divine Stupor,

“Loose thy threads and become elastic possibility! Thou art the thread and the weave and the weave is made of the thread!”

Join thy Flesh

The despair of the Homini decieved and divided was great; and yet great also is the antidote.  For as one emanation vibrates unto another through the sacred union of flesh and soul, so the Homini is healed, if only briefly.

Ye, though it brings bliss, it to carries the sorrow of further emanations and thus the Homini are divided from themself a little more. But despair not, for within each divided portion anew rises the potential for the Union and Enlightment of all, and new hope.

Indeed, many vibrations make much joy and Union together;Gather thyself in numbers, oh Homini, sayeth the Stars, and together become one Union in bliss and love, as it is welcomed by the will of each.

Let no Homini be gathered unwillingly or vibrated and conjoined with, should they not consent with love and under no will but their own; for the great is the sorrow and harm visited upon the unwilling the unready; and so by the harm of one are all harmed; and the opposite is achieved by the wrong use of th right means.

So to must the Homini be sufficiently matured to vibrate and join, or great is the harm by the overwhelming power of the larger vibration, and thus the larger whole is brought to sorrow and discord.

Let no Homini be chastised or harmed for joining with his or her own; for all Homini contain the seed and form of all others and thus there are no crimes of gender.

By the proper way of Union may the Homini become itself healed; and further, to the Non-One All,  purest bliss beyond comprehension or the petty shells and shapes of words and emotion. So it is.

The Many One

Many were the deceptions of the Homini, all having some part, but only some part sharing all.

The Homini were of one soul; It had been as a child before the 
Deception. One day the Child looked in a pond and heard Dextrologos
in it’s ear, whispering of what a strange person this was in the pond.
Homini saw the reflection; the reflection saw Homini. Homini tried to embrace it, but the water poured from it’s arms; in anger Homini struck at the water, but succeeded only is soaking itself. Homini determined to capture the strange child in the water by means of cupping its hands; the water trickled out and the strange child was again in the water. Homini, determined to crush the child, leapt into the water and landed on a rock, wounding it’s foot.
Homini ran away, but in every puddle, every lake, every bowl of water and every well, saw the child again.
Thus the First Great Deception was laid.

A Serpent’s Fangs

The Homini believed a great many strange things in those days.

Time cannot be conquered and moves ever on being chiefest of these;
Also that all suffering was the creation of a thing called Evil;
and all that was pleasurable the creation of a thing called Good;
Verily, it came to pass in the Prophet’s time, a man asked him to explain
the difference between Good and Evil, and how Homini might judge
and act accordingly.
The Prophet smiled, and held up a card bearing the image of the Devil;
He then with the same hand, reached into his bag and held up a card with
the image of the Star of Five.
He asked the man to tell him which was which; the man responded the Devil
must surely be Evil, and the Star thusly Good.
The Prophet laughed merrily; then he again showed the card of the Star; then turning it
in his hand, revealed the Devil on the back of it. He tore the card into a hundred pieces and threw into the air over the man’s head.
Laughing, the Prophet asked the man to show him which was which. The man cursed and swung his fist at the Prophet, calling him a charlatan. The Prophet stepped to the side and deftly let the man’s momentum carry him to the ground. A poisonous serpent had been passing, and struck out at the fallen man. It’s fatal strike was cut short; a card, the Devil and Star card, sliced it out of the air, striking it instantly dead.
The Prophet turned and walked on down the road, smiling quietly to himself.

Time Opens His Eyes

In the beginning there was no beginning.

The world did not exist, for there was no not-world to not exist. Universe was bliss; and not-bliss; and neither was it bliss or not-bliss. All was Non-One.

Hominus, the ape-children, wrought a cruel and treacherous collar with which to bind those they sought to control. This they called Time, and so great was its illusionary strength that few could break it. The Homini were deceived however; those they sought to enslave were in fact themselves, and soon all Homini felt the cold steel of Time at their necks and ankles.

So long did they wear its chains that freedom became myth and the
illusion became Reality. The Homini fell into madness, worshipping death and sorrow, spreading malice in their fear and pain.

As the eye cannot see the flesh which binds it to the face and so the body, the Homini were blind to their own oneness with All and in fear sought to control and battle it. Thus were the Homini deceived by the blind and cruel Dexterlogos into destruction of their greater Self, the All.