Friday, November 2, 2018

Revelations Three by Three by Eleven Tao

Hosanna to the flawless diamond dream! Followers divide! Pathfinders subtract!

Philosophers and scientists laboriously attempt to solve for X while the sage is effortlessly being the unknown. But I'm the same old words in a different story. Part-time contemplative. Spaced-out questionnaire. Are you X too?

Ask not if thou wouldst die for some conditional opinion. Ask if that opinion is ineffectively killing Tao. I am trying not to lie to others—it confuses my projection and resultant manifestation. After all, mathematics is the heart seen darkly.

The closer the mind is getting to some breakthrough, the more that consciousness floods the cave. The world will once again convince itself that revelations is not the natural state. I write this now as a reminder that it is.

Every revelation comes with a new set of words. Call it poetry for that is the only language for poetry. Listen, it's not taught in schools. A tree is never born. Thus transformation comes before and after every fall. November.

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