Not everyone can go inside, you know. That would be silly, and just quite stupid.
How many people, if one could call them that, are but some meager evanescent spectre. Parading on the troubled surface of the Samskaric mirror. Stupid and futile. As futile as all that becomes corrupted, falling into earth. Even the worms in my garden have more of a soul, then even the false god of the civilized human golem.
Who would dare, tell me if you can? Some talking makeup on the screen…a bad design, another awkward drawing. The god of Judea!
All this just makes up another graveyard. A grandmother, your little child. Is that all? Are these just dead souls and dead eyes, vacant or just plain mean. Mean, stupid,… and what a futile life!
Do you live only to defecate? Eat cheese and drink wine?
Did a God make all this mess? Or was it your neighbor, your friends your children the pasteur and your wife?
***
I’ll go inside and see for myself! No one, not even Elon or David B. can follow.
What’s on the outside, is a great big curtain dangling.
Inside the rock I’ll bury my soul in my God’s fortress:
VAJRA.
