There is a palpable reality that one can feel in some sort of fundamental animal way that bad times are with us to stay. The moon stands alone high above in an endless inky doom. The stars have long ago been expunged by the vapors of a universal human civilized waste. The dominant nations on earth seems a haven for material greed and the business of its enforcement upon this lonely little globe that we as corporeal entities rest upon. One wonders if we as temporal entities are but merely bubbles that are summoned from a much greater form of Gaia like effervescence? Yet, magnates who take the title on of masters of the electric circuit that NikolaiTesla channeled from some strange ethereal entity in times long past direct our daily existences enforcing their rule through a religion of shock and awe. Human eyes are blinded by the bright glow of portable thought lanterns that suppress more than they communicate, inspire or educate. All seem entranced by a demonic magic that bind the many as if one. And like our fellow primates we are easily influenced by that thunder of the chest of what seems the biggest gorilla on the block to barge aggressively about and lay down the laws as to whom in the tribe gets food and who gets poked the end of a sharp stick. Much is made by the crier monkey cults that ape a philosophy of an endemic indoctrination of unreasoning fear of every other species as if they are collectively the cause of the very actions that are wrought by the influential in our name. The night is alive with this endless mischief that keeps the entire jungle on edge.
But what of the fact of that tenuous sense of some mysterious belonging to a much greater unseen river of endless existence? The daily obsession with material exchange that occupies almost all of our waking consciousness having been methodically displaced as if by design. If there is not belief in something greater still than this present incarnation as tireless wage slaves simply seeking immediate forms of physical gratification then is not one simply a dumb beast that has been bartered away from a deeper connection more personal and ever eternal. What of the proffer of ever less insubstantial rewards its reality existing only within a less expansive reconfigured mental prison supporting a collective hive mind guilty of enrapturing but not enriching all who are so unfortunate to be within its reach. The notion of the contract and one’s good name defamed in a bad deal that one goes along with in a bovine acknowledgement of enslavement within the herd. The ultimate portal for the forcefully unknowing being that of the cessation of physical existence which is understood only as an inconvenient interruption rather than a periodic form of transformation. Few seem to ask the most basic questions about themselves as to the subtle barely detectable mechanism behind the larger purpose. If intelligence exists within those reciprocating engines of duality that by union offer the birth of individual personality as congealed in a species then what sort of universal presence sets it in motion and why? Is there a greater sense of larger unknowable identifiable self that rests uneasily within an endlessly troubled sleep that dreams us all up? Or perhaps, is this everyday waking fiction naught but a distinctly separate reality an escape from the awareness of something far above the trivial nature of what is so loosely refereed to as everyday reality?