Evil Urges

Is the battle for justice another facet of our imperfection? Same as hunger, desire, the need for rebirth and regeneration? Our consciousness builds battles of insurmountable proportion. Things not meant to be carried. Things not ought. The greying of our eyes, the withering of our hands intimately illustrates our paradox and duality. What better remedy for this strife than except an action, a release, a plunge into darkness to remember where we came from. A wrought catabolizing, our crying melodies turn internal chaos into little salty structures of relief. Starry rocks are born out of the cosmic fluidity of astral assemblage. Our broken forms derive information for projection only from the chiasmic churning of the oceans of milk. Divine justice is outside of time. It’s judges and angels only whisper in hours, holding God’s light in mud and reed and ore. This sanctuary of truth cannot be without evil.

Is the proper discernment of what is ill derived, just? Or is the revolution merely casting spells? This revolution arrived by way of materials, the invention of shelters, perverted with disconnection. Denial of the sacred is the spiritual establishment of nonconformity and esoteric mysticism. Are the convenience machines of heuristics not the greatest form of propaganda? Are our tithes inverted? Was it truly intended to declare 9/10th of our liberty to the State?