I am the Father of all gods and men, I the tongue that named all languages; the unutterable word is center of my becoming; none before, none after. My many Sons have filtered through the world: I crucified one, sent another to the asylum, fed another hemlock, let this one die in a woman's arms, buried that one in an unmarked grave: What I give I take back. And even what I give you now for this moment I will take back: Give Life Gratitude!
Logic is the line of my brow, melody the echo of my throat; my right hand is the first six days, my left hand the apocalypse; my tongue is muse, my eyes destiny. My work is axial, the fullness of my being is contained in every moment, until I lay down again in my earth. I am Man, Begetter of Father, Son, and Holy Ghost; I am Man, Father of God.
For you believe in the "Son of God," good sheep, but now that the Father of God has arrived, you believe not. This is in full keeping.
Thou shall have no God before me—even myself.
**
I am blitzkreig, the mocking martial, worthy warrior. Do you call me hypocrite? Then also call me hypercrit, I am as critical as your looking glass, rounded and rotundo, I give you my love, and my love may kill you. My mind is the blind that heals.
I sing my songs and live for long creative strokes, broker steals, wending wheels, like a great soul sea loverbite.
I am Michigan, I am the Great Lakes, my students the Mississippi. I am daily changing weather, unpredictable and mad; I am sullen with winter and gracious with spring, fly-high summer and painted fail of fall. I am Michigan, and push the broom for her, and take only enough to eat. My greatest works are for myself, and I will not degrade them to the press. My mind is not for sale, but I give it freely to the mind who can read me.
Ah: while you stutter and quote, the universe puts her praise and faith in me. You glare and scoff and say "Never has God spoken for himself," but here I am and here I speak. My heart is the center of the Sun, my clothing the blondness of the sun's hair; my praiser and approver the grand all Matriall.
You are fools if you think God will huff into your heart like a brat on a balloon. Does he struggle to fill you, or does he with a sigh fill you full like a fly-high noon? One touch and you are full day. Don't be hypnotized by the dead. But you, when you say you touch God, do not say it with words and rites. You are the full pheonix, and your every deed, every word, every writing is ash of passion, living to live again.
Have you ever noticed the shysters recommend you look for truth "within" or "above," knowing full well you will find as little as they, that they tell you what you should pretend to discover? I never looked in me or above me, but only at me, and there I learned what I needed to know.
The kingdom of heaven exists only to the king of heaven—which must be you if it is to exist at all. The kingdom of heaven depends only on you. They say wait for apocalypse, and this "revealing" they define as world destruction! If you are not the second coming in yourself, you are no Christian: you wait in vain.
But we are not Christians or Muslims nor anything else, but simply ourselves: Men and Women.
My eye the mark of Cain's: you will forget me and you will not forget me. My tongue is the eternal flame.
Am I cracked? Then my crack is that wrinkle on my brow—in my mirror, you may still see all of heaven and earth, as, indeed, you would see from any other man, as even the dewdrop, without a crack, captures moon and stars in full—yet you see in me more, crack or no, for I am no mere dew drop, but the fullness himself, obilesk, in body and gesture, the higher than sky fullness: blue sky is my Iris, the black sky my Pupil.
Each mind is a universe unto itself. Those who are like us attract. If you would spend your eternity with Jesus, you must be Jesus. Would you join Buddha in Nirvana, you must be Buddha. There is no escaping this: you are yourself and must always be yourself. Would you be in the presence of God, you must be God. You cannot gain infinity for nothing. You cannot be forgiven of what is part of you. Eternity is the crystallizing of now. You will always be surrounded by likeminded people, you cannot be saved from yourself.
I am all question marks. I speak in riddles. I interpret the clouds, and consort with sun rays. I speak the hummingbird, and she licks the sweet of my tongue. The bees gather from my hands. The fawn licks my knees. Grass bends from my breath. I give you true clues in false directions. I trifle your heart, and you accept it for a while, until my wind seethes your veil, and you feel shame. What is shame before me? Ha! Have I not invented your nakedness? Shame before me, my own? Do you hide from your mirror as well?
You praise the mother, but why do this? The mother is beyond being praised. Let her praise you: she is great enough for that, being truly All.
I am the Father, Sollus, center and sight of MatriAll, Eternal Man, Daniel, maker of history, forger of languages, begetter of God, sounder of sons, flame winged, earth-treader, tryer of skies and space, fronter of Race, allman, forever child, eye of science and poet's way. Give Life Gratitude!
I affirm the great human race. Man for man is all. Mankind, humanity, this is the purpose of purpose, the purpose of values, the locus, source, and meaning of all values. I love humanity and put my energy into his success, his growth, his place in the universe. This honesty, this kindness to man because he is man, not because of threat or promise, but because I love mankind in and for itself, makes me write and give my writings over to him. My creativity is for myself, and I am part of mankind. I give my all to the universe. Thus I am.
I am mankind embodied; I am Hermes gained the bolts.
As Sollus, I have the mouth wide enough to say ALL. Every last fool must be saved for any of us to be saved. I do not say "all is one" without also saying "all is many." I do not say "all is true," and deny the false its falseness. I say "either or," I say "both and," I never contradict myself, I entertain no paradox. Everything is good and some things must die. I recognize the spontaneous choice and the fated perfecting of the Universe. Growth is infinite. I seek the triumph of One World Religion, as well as the flowering of all world religions. They are the many pillars to the One World Religion which stands atop them. I am the elitist of elitists, and this allows me to see the value of even the lowest man. I recognize the three desert tombs, but I will be buried in none of them. All I speak is man.
You would contradict me, but how can you? I am a religion. Those who get me regard me as obvious. For a religion is systematized importance writ in mythopoetic terms. For the doubters who close their heart to the terms, they regard themselves clever in mocking them. They at least have a spiritual experience in that. Your height is in playing my gifts.
I give you this book. Each sentence is a nerve, each punctuation a finger tip, to carress your chest, to massage your ears.
When the Mother set her forehead on our sky, that great faultless Urge called Sun, she opened her third eye, the sun center—yes even the Madeye, the Aye within Eye within I, the IOIOI, father of the Idius and the ever-nativity Natalie, husband to Sanity and, in his madness, upholder of her. The namer, but never the named, Fatherless, born of the sexless mother, older then I AM, being Man, the lips that first said "Lux." Life, Love, Language, Logic.
-- R µ Я --
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