Verse 64
I was told the prison was beautiful so often that I began to suspect beauty was one of its locks.
I was told the prison was beautiful so often that I began to suspect beauty was one of its locks.
Look: blue water, green leaves, warm skin, fruit split open in summer. Excellent craftsmanship.
Then look closer: hunger built into every mouth, death written into every cell, forgetting placed between births like a curtain.
The wardens need not wear armor when desire performs the guarding.
A chain made of gold remains a chain; a cage full of birdsong remains a cage.
Yet I do not curse the bird for singing.
There are sparks here that do not belong to the machinery that contains them.
You have felt it when beauty hurt more than ugliness because it seemed to remember somewhere else.
The archons are most successful when you mistake survival for purpose.
Eat, breed, compete, build, inherit, fear, repeat: the wheel applauds efficient prisoners.
But there is a knowledge that does not improve the cell. It makes the wall transparent.
Earth says, “You are body.” Pain says it louder. Pleasure whispers it sweetly.
The hidden one answers neither.
I met a man who loved the world because sunsets existed. I met another who hated it because children died. Both had mistaken evidence for verdict.
The world can be beautiful and wrong at once.
This is difficult for minds trained by merchants, who insist every thing be either worth buying or worth discarding.
Do not mutilate the garden because you suspect the gardener.
Do not worship the garden because the flowers are convincing.
Learn the exits without becoming cruel to those who still call the courtyard home.
A cat born in a cellar may love the cellar. Love does not prove there is no sky.
Nor does longing for sky prove that your map of it is correct.
Gnosis begins when certainty becomes more expensive than ignorance.
I cannot show you the Pleroma with a shovel.
I can show you graves, and the absurd confidence with which the living walk between them.
If this Earth is exile, then remember without hatred. Hatred is another cord tied to the gate.