05/17/04
"Sitting in the circle of six, is the seventh, the universal. He is a man, yet no less than the sum of their parts. This being that is born anew into the cycle, is never able to experience and grow past that childlike love of the world. The desires of the six maneuver their shining center, birthing him as a being to carry their burdens, to shoulder their woes. The center is blessed with the earthly pains of his six."
I sat back after typing up this sentence, my mind soaring on a placebo mental enhancement tea, and my belly full with vegetable soup. Bobbing up and down, soaking in the primordial anxiety of our collision culture, I stared off into a world and simple truth. A holy txt file was forming, something that resembled answers, impossibly improbable answers, but answers that made sense to the state of mind I had reached.
Stripped of all the subcategories of me/them personalities, I found myself there, as one of the six. And I found the truth to be that we all secretly want to be the seventh, the person that blossoms, and not the discarded, fragmented shards of their shell. My ego fights furiously beneath my mind, claiming its royalty based on suffering served.
The story rises from our bodies like steam after a long, hot shower. It unfolds before us like a map, showing only the most dualistic of events. North, south. Good, evil. The story is our program laid bare, our essence of humanity's design, drawn and charted. As the story's power grows and more minds are laid bare before its awesome presence, the more we become the true bearer's of the original, the ideal, six.
We are the Ghosts of the World. Mad thinkers of a free design, burning with the passion of united resonance.
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