He had spent such a long time searching for answers that at some point he figured out he’d forgotten the question.
The questions made no sense to him anymore. Each question presupposed what it was asking.
Where did we come from? Presupposes a bunch of things, an origin point, for one. And if we pointed to some location on the globe, or in a distant star cluster, what would it actually mean?
Would there be illumination?
When did it all start? Again, the question presupposes some moment in time. Some egg heads in the came up with a number, 13.787±0.020 billion years ago.
Imagine the audacity in that error bar.
They are currently, busily updating it to almost double that number, due to some inconvenient data coming out of our modern instrumentation. Ok, take 25bn years ago.
Does it make any difference? Are you illuminated?
What is the meaning of life? Why is there something rather than nothing?
We all grew up asking these kinds of questions and at some point abandoned pursuit with the realization it led to an endless rabbit hole.
Some of us ended up settling on a religious book, embracing the love of a deity as consolation.
Others went new age mystic, professing oneness and the end of duality.
The rest used the crutches of scientific consensus 13bn years long.
But in the end we all rested upon some rocky perch hoping against all odds it was firm.
Vikid, for all his glorious intent, found that for all he tried, he had landed in the middle of a black hole, finding no purchase to rest his wary wings. He was in free fall, past the event horizon with no ticket back.
He noticed that he had lost his mind a long time ago. He lost it when he saw infinity and knew that it had always been an illusion, nigh, he had always been an illusion.
The realization was at once both as debilitating as it was liberating. William Blake had alluded to this in 1803, when he wrote the Auguries of Innocence,
“To see a World in a Grain of Sand
and a Heaven in a Wild Flower,
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour”
Cliche for some, a living truth for The Vikid.
Blake then continues with a warning,
“A dog starvd at his Masters Gate
Predicts the ruin of the State
A Horse misusd upon the Road
Calls to Heaven for Human blood ”
Can you see what he is saying?
It goes on to what Vikid considered the most poignant of his observations,
“The Bat that flits at close of Eve
Has left the Brain that wont Believe”
It is worth meditating upon its meaning.
The Owl that calls upon the Night
Speaks the Unbelievers fright
Oow oow.
It speaks to the Truth we will not acknowledge.
The poison of the Honey Bee
Is the Artists Jealousy
The Princes Robes & Beggars Rags
Are Toadstools on the Misers Bags
A Truth thats told with bad intent
Beats all the Lies you can invent
Bad Intent. You have to learn to notice it. It’s worn mostly by billionaire philanthropists and woven in the fine fabrics of those who read the news. It’s embroidered on the white jackets of those who order cat scans and dish you pills. It’s engineered in the basement of Institutions adorned by history, poisoned by Ivy. It runs like a pearl necklace through every book. Especially the textbooks.
You just need to know how to look for it.
The trick is easy. Read the Augeries. Meditate on its meaning.
The Emmets Inch & Eagles Mile
Make Lame Philosophy to smile
He who Doubts from what he sees
Will neer Believe do what you Please
If the Sun & Moon should Doubt
Theyd immediately Go out
Get that book in the photo too.
It’s what Vikid’s planned for you.
Every Night & every Morn
Some to Misery are Born
Every Morn and every Night
Some are Born to sweet delight
Some are Born to sweet delight
Some are Born to Endless Night
We are led to Believe a Lie
When we see not Thro the Eye
Which was Born in a Night to perish in a Night
When the Soul Slept in Beams of Light
God Appears & God is Light
Go out and See the Light
And that’s,