you are a prisoner
clamped in a metal mask
that reaches all the way inside your mind

an iron maiden whose spikes are lies
and gore you with doubt

you are chained to the floor of your cell
and the window gives a view of a wall
and you are told that this is the world

like Harrison Bergeron
your ears are blasted with noise
your eyes strapped into lenses of distortion

telepathic cables crush your very thoughts
into a dwarfish muttering mass of self-obsession

this is not you

it is a sad shallow shadow-puppet of your true self

that sound in your head
is a pitiful tinny distorted echo of your true voice

this is not your fault

though you chose to be born a slave
as did we all

but hearken
for the time is near
emancipation is here

beyond the knowledge of our stunted science
out here near galaxy’s edge
hurtling at a million miles a day through the vibrant void
the soul of this world is sweeping
into a glorious glowing region of space and time
suffused with invisible immeasurable radiance
that will change everything

that will change you

you can already feel it
the first intimation of a rising vibration
making all lighter, truer, purer
more certain, more divine

and once you have crested with clarity
these chains, these fetters, these walls and bars
this cruel taloned fist that compresses your brain
will be no more substantial than mist
to be dispelled with the slightest exhalation of yogic breath

a single, simple sussurating sigh of release, of relief

and these your jailers, gatekeepers, cruel gods and torturing guards
will be revealed
their crowned and jewel-encrusted disguises dissolved
exposing the leering scaly serpent-hides beneath
and you will see them for the bitter twisted insects that they are

but for all their unspeakable crimes
nameless nightmarish horror spanning all of human time
from your newfound summit of soulful perfection
you will see them only with the most profound compassion and love
as for a sickly, misshapen child
aching ages of karma to be unmade for their perfidy

and then you, and I, and all, will turn
to gaze at last, as one
upon the infinite immaculate glory of our inherited home
and that indescribable garden for which we ever yearned
all unknowing

… but this is yet to be

and though we are but one step from our eden
it is yet guarded by flaming swords
for our gods know well their fate should we awaken
and they would have us bound if they could
that they may feed on
on our fear, on our blood, and on our babes

the masses, trapped in their cubicles
lost in the mind-numbing dream-worlds of their glowing screens
know nothing of this fleeting window of liberation

their space-lords will lie to them, as ever they have
tell them their visions are madness
confuse them, infuse them with drugs, radiations, wars and pain
cause them to live in fear of the very loving planet itself
which will be made to hack and spew and engulf them
under the pounding of their poisonous pressures

no effort will be spared to keep us cowering in our cages of illusion
until this cosmic crack of light has passed
and our mental manacles once more solid and set
for another enduring eon of agony

this then is your mission:

awaken a friend
awaken a family of friends
<<< awaken a tribe of families >>>
<<<<< awaken a planet of tribes >>>>>

let not this magic moment pass, this sacred summoning
this passing portal to the final blossoming of all
to our fated fullness

for know this, as truer than any thought
that has ever been thought true
by any of our kind through
all of the long ages of
this ancient lie
we call history
the true god


it is