I took you out...and brought you with me to the place where vines are easily burnt and the grasses dry. There's no telling what I can do. What is mine, I take back. The earth stands at rest...as for what is left behind only an idiot-fool would dare talk about.
I took you out from underneath a heavy sleeping weight where only cattle would be without sadness. Certainly you belong to me. I put you there with my still breath, within a likeness of me. But the air that came from out of me into the fashioned earthen clay would not and could stay in the fleshly barracks of an earthly dead end !
So I whispered to you within that sleeping solitary dust shell. I said, "no thing can be, if it weren't for me. You are my soul heart and eyes. In your clay I was distraught. I became blind, but saw things thru particles that tore the death out me.
I was ashamed, because you were mine yet I sent you into an outward heaviness. Where even Paradise was insufferable !"
Certainly if we look further on, what looked like me wasn't me ! But you. In your antecedent invisibility, in a corpse no longer looked like me, and therefore you forgot me.
Afterwards, I went into the very garden that I'd made. I dressed myself as a snake and hid amongst the thickets surrounding the divided tree. And I said to you, "eat of this fruit, which I myself created and become as I am. Know yourself to be as the one who was breathed into the depths of death, even into Paradise."
No, there is no evil god. There's only what God Himself had said, he'd regretted. God had been stupid, like before the days of Noah, so it will be at the end of the World.
There is no Demiurge, without your Spirit-soul. There is only One God. And at times He's quite dumb ! ...and we are that dumbness !
Like Plotinus knew, we are His eyes. But unfortunately we get lost in pixels and bytes.
...and make life into a desert of ionized atoms, reflecting our sibling useless unawareness in a world where we can't but make the state of strife and impoverished nuclear waste, our dishonourable home.
You are his Nobility.
You are His Words of Power.
But who is well enough awake to see he's sleeping in a corpse of wrought clay
That he himself has made ?
