Wednesday, September 10, 2014
(Justification of the Poet)
The poet knows, we don’t get to choose what happens to us, to a large degree in life, and when one goes back to tell his story, the listener is usually walking in the dark: to them it’s like walking in the dark, so why tell it at all, except for posterity’s sake, because sometime, somewhere, someone out there will identify with it I suppose, and that may be worth a dime in the rough!
But if there is anything worse than hate it is worth knowing and it is probably indifference.
And so the compensation is that the poet owes the watch repairman, and he hasn’t even got a watch….
And to try to fix the world’s wrongs, to have made his life better, most often you add to them, so he leaves well enough alone—;
The poet knows this, and thus says: ‘I just did the best I could, with what I had at the time…` He must act, not react!
He knows the new world currency is becoming information that is what he doesn’t react to emotions anymore, but to thinking!
And this is his story of recompense, this will have to do! He tells his mind’s eye.
Impeccable he tries to be and knows: he who is not deceived, is he who knows, him such to be deceived!
And that guilt will pass, even if deceived.
He knows everything broken, is not meant to be fixed.
He knows, the world spins on dreams; he himself has had many of them.
And he also knows (and she knows, but we are talking about a certain poet, for the most part, in a generalization…) with free will we have been given great responsibilities.
And he distinguishes where there is nothing, there is God.
Therefore, how can there be separation between God and man, Satan and man, for both God and Satan are in the secret conversations of his mind. Perhaps even Satan has some ancient inalienable right to be present, for was he not part of the eternal mind?
This is how the poet thinks, not the Philosopher, nor the Evolutionist, nor the scientist!
Just the poet!
And s/he feels justified to feel, to think this way.
For man, he knows time is of the essence, to understand; but angelic intelligences, their thoughts travel as fast as light: the bad angels have their thesis, as do the good angels: so how can man speak with any certainty of man’s dissertation, if indeed man seeks to understand he is not ready for; if indeed he was given the knowledge to understand angelic aptitudes.
He doesn’t say this out loud, he dare not, but he whispers it to his second mind, the one Jesus told Mary Magdalene produces visions, or confirmed that is where they come from.
It would not be as it should be, should we understand, more than the circle of life is willing to allow: so he recognizes: it is perhaps inseparable: extraordinary why God allows Satan to roam earth unabated.
‘Man’s knowledge and brains are so infinitesimally small in comparison to such understandings, like grasshoppers, yet God has allowed man to pick up vibrations, echoes,’ of forbidden knowledge, that the dark angels wish to distribute, his second mind tells him this in secret;
How else would they know?
He is talking about those angelic begins, demons and imps that have transgressed:
That is to say, those phantoms that are part of the overall puzzle of existence in man’s solar system.
There is a complete circle here the poet is told: should you take one part out of that circle, it is incomplete.
And therefore all remain in that circle, and therefore, God will use all the parts within that circle, as he wills.
We are all essential to the circle, past, present, and future, until God closes it, and says: “No more entry!”
Thus take one, just one element, one part, one human being, one devil out of it, take one of anything out of it, the circle is broken.
Take one angel, one demon, Satan, God, man, insect, out of it, it is no longer whole.
If the poet does not understand this, he will never understand the rest of the equation, and be dumfounded as the scientists, and philosophers are!
Poets know—more than not I would think—Angels can move though the darkness of space to illuminate like a beam of light—
This is no secret, but hard for some people of high learning to believe, see, imagine, understand—
Yet black holes are unseen, undetermined, and once light is sucked in, it will never come out; yet believed and seemingly understood—and no one has ever experienced one.
Yet many men have had visions, experienced miracles, and it has been written once upon a time, a man brought to life the dead, walked on water, turned water into wine, and yet some call this a fable… (seen)
And there are those from the abyss, phantoms, they fade and vanish, but they exist all the same—again this is hard for the highly intelligent yet retarded mind to comprehend!
When I say retarded, I mean, underdeveloped.
God has created two worlds, the eternal world and the world of time.
Had he not, the question might arise, would man have any knowledge of God, and if that was so, the idea of God might not exist:
But the poet knows such things are contrary…
For the philosopher, he lives in the abstract world!
For the poet, time is arranged in a rhythmic pattern which must incorporate change and recurrence, immortal music this is his real world;
Whereas the law of the mind, is the philosophers;
And the law of science: the scientist his mind is of physics, or the physical universe; and most have lost the God equation to it, or purposely left it out: meaning, if God is not part of the equation—since they’re tired of trying to find God, hop skipping, and failing to prove he does not exist, therefore, there is a gap in the equation which makes the equation, zero.
The poet, a true poet will tell you: again and again and again: maybe he is remote from his origin, but not unconnected with its miraculous effect!
He will call on the gifts of the Holy Spirit to help him translate: he knows theology, philosophy, physics, it all is part of the interpretation of life, even evolution might have a value, God uses all within his immense creation of man and the universe.
This is what I meant by retarded, the scientist, has limited himself.
Anyhow: the Poet’s intuition knows there are greater minds than his out there, and pessimism is widespread in those greater minds;
Which is a tragedy to a high degree: the interpretation of life is simple yet complex which one tries to make a complete circle with a gap in it.
The Poet, and the scientist both know the numbers in Pi:
They know what the circle consist of;
And the scientist tries to create an end number for Pi, and it can’t be done.
The Poet knows, God created Pi, to inform such minds; this is his number—infinite.
Pushing all this aside, the poet, he is connected to the deeper images, more so than the philosopher, or the scientist, or the theologian, or even the psychologist, or the illusionist, or evolutionist, why?
Because he never leaves the circle of possibilities: the poet is with the existence of God, in every move.
Even though there are poets that may crisscross in the course of their life, to being retarded—wishing to live in pretense, and die with the devil overlooking him, he simply has made a definitive choice to do so.
Written: 9-9-2014 (No: 4546)