It's 00:40, and for four years, I've steadfastly embraced my role as a writer, holding firm through every ebb and flow. There were moments when words eluded me, and others when they surged forth; my mind alternated between silence and nights of turbulence and noise. Amongst moments of greatness and bouts of humility, I found clarity in the void of my ego, not only for myself but also for those around me.
As a young adult, no different from others my age, I grappled with social, professional, and financial challenges. My existence was dedicated solely to my passion, and in hindsight, those were the moments that shone brightest. Yet, perhaps my most profound calling was the pursuit of research, a quest to make sense of the perpetual whirl within my mind. My thoughts were twisted by the influence of great men and women, the paths of life that traversed my surface, psychedelic experiences, and heart-wrenching romantic separations. While some aspects found clarity, others remained enigmatic.
Furthermore, academia bestowed upon me the ability to advance my visions through theories, methodologies, analyses, and quotations. But above all this, despite the divine inspiration that graced me, I could never fathom the origins of my words.
As a skilled writer, my devotion and ambition were chosen paths. However, some poems—still, I rediscover them—were dictated by a force mightier than my own, taking months, sometimes years, to fully grasp and comprehend. Certain verses carried purpose, meticulously shaped within a professional structure. Yet, there were poems born in moments where my hands met this legendary keyboard, already molded by forces beyond. Mirror numbers emerged as I wrote, visions danced, imageries unfolded, biblical and mystical allegories intertwined. I can still distinguish poems of my command from those not under my sway.
Christopher Cawrse, a theologian, posited that God communicated with me, conveying messages. Yet, I've always believed that the Divine's wisdom transcends the discourse with a soul as lost as mine. Academically, I sought connections to typography, attempting to correlate it with one of my performances (Khalas). However, I recognized that logic served as a tool, crafting a convincing explanation for others. Spiritually, I sense that attaining a transcendent state provided access to the collective unconscious. As an empath, I absorbed people’s vibrations and ideas, translating them into poetic words. In these moments, I may have unintentionally absorbed ideas from a different dimension. Though interpretations vary and cater to proponents of distinct approaches, the essence lies in the words' presence. They must be felt and grasped, offering solace and personal messages to each reader.
Within this book lie some, if not all, of these mystical visions or divinations, as I have come to call them. Contained within this modest booklet, designed to accompany you on your spiritual journey, are words far grander than my humble ego. In moments of nothingness, clarity triumphs. So, without further ado, plunge deeper, dear reader, and let your spirit guide you.
We are a few, yet radiant—these fortunate few, united.
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