Last Sunday, Easter was again upon us........The pageantry, The passion, The ism of "Theism".....has always seemed the spectacle of the streets, more than the musings from Palace towers.......As soon as my prefrontal cortex was operationally analytical, I cleaned house of the detritus of mass belief systems that had been earnestly posited, like an underground viral network, whose objective was my potential brainwashing........When I was old enough to write my feelings and thoughts on surfaces that persist in time, stacks of paper, decorated with inked language, began to flow and saturate pressed wood fiber.......and these youthfully skeptical poems entered my existentially exuberant expressivity, displacing the ancient scribbles in the carbon black of cave walls.......It was not until I was 19 or 20, and....reading of Diogenes Teufelsdröckh, then a book that ends in the middle of a sentence and begins in the middle of the same sentence, did I see the exit from the Cave........
.the prayer is the question, to which surmise is the answer.....my implication: Man confabulates, via collusive Fantasy, his delusional mass psychosis, expressed as Gods....or Monsters....Imaginings that prove to him that the World was painted on cave walls, directed from some burning bush, ignited by Thor's lightening bolts, created by the Questions, that eventuate the Answers; and, by those paintings, the epidemic hysteria is perpetuated.....there is no Palace at the exit from the Cave.......just Nothingness.....Yet, Humans still dance about the fire pits and bow before the inscrutable Monolith......
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