Do not put your hope in anyone in front of you,
because you know, you wouldn’t survive in them
and that they only take advantage of your inability
to accept your own death in them.
And when you follow them,
they walk in your steps.
Only in the one you feel in yourself
will you survive.
Although small as a poppy,
he will bloom in your fields
when you die where you need to,
to live.
The time has come,
directness is coming.
In some, one is leaving
and in some, one is coming.
And you will know
that you have never been alone.
Only our own world of the horizontal
determined the world of the great and the world of the small,
the world of the white and the world of the black,
the world of the right and the world of the left
in the name of God here among us.
Yet the only world of the unknown X
is everyone in himself
the one and only God’s name X of his own world.
But the time of the great always flowed away,
and the time of the small always grew,
and in this time, in the final stage of the vertical,
divided only to the living and to the dead.
And the great ones, in whose veins
the blood of the naively small ones flowed,
will become only Y strangers to the small ones,
but the small ones
day by day grow larger Y to each other.
And the world will turn
for too many on the head
and for many on the feet of a human.
Do not look for the flower of eternity
there far beyond the nine mountains,
so that it doesn’t die here within you.
It is better you water it with your tears
than only clearing your face
in her streams.
Not the one who has built himself a “someone”
and lives in the house of his address
behind the fence of conceited justice,
but the one who asks for mercy
on the doorstep of a foreign address.
For in the moment he is heard,
all own houses become but illegal construction.
And one divided by three never reaches home,
while three multiplied by the divisor one
sets up an eternally new home.
And you will know forever
that we were starting points to each other
and not each other’s address.
He who cried out “Eli, Eli!”
left all his days of the Lord’s week
and laid down his life on Sunday –
the eye, the palm of the free will of each one of us.
But only Elijah in your heart
returns His heart to the day when He will stand before you
and you before Him.
While everyone of his own days
– of the Sunday of his own eye –
with be trisected by his own sword of fire of the triune number phi
in the endless days of the Sunday of eternal eye.
It is the time of the last encounters,
of the powerful with powerlessness and the powerless with power.
For the circle is rounded,
and the water of the devoted
is already becoming the wine of eternal life,
while the noble wine of the powerful in crystal glasses
only water in streams.
Man was not afraid of life,
but of himself the coming one.
But only the departing one could overcome the fear
of the only eyes that see.
Everything else is just an escape
from your own eyes.
When you arrive,
from you the one measured after yourself or himself
resurrects as the number phi.
This world is a world of predators
and laws of predation
that stop human
at the invisible borders of time.
But time has matured,
and the borders of time have become the borders of death,
and human in himself has either chosen the predator
in whom now the human is dying,
or the human in whom now the predator is dying.
From the world of plundered furs
will you end up as your own prey,
or will you fly silently like a butterfly
from your own trap into the sky?
The Spirit of Truth