In the grand scheme of things, nothing is what it seems but the voice of spirit
not as a deity, a god or a devil, an angel or demon
the voice is unaware of being understood as a force of nature
how when people converse about nothing worthwhile a phrase spoken merits
energy in hindsight as if to strike a chord to make someone listen
Given the speaker knows nothing nor remembers what she said, the daemon
reserves the right to hide within language alone for the plebs to wager
as a pledge or promise, as to uphold an oath, the spirit shines a light
not visible to eyes but only to the ear of someone so driven
delusions becomes real, not just words on the page but a spoken command
Schemes as constellations to navigate the seas by starlight as darkness
calls captains and sailors to seek the horizon beyond truth where the damned
hearken back to Seirênes awaiting them to hear their songs, noting the sharpness
entering their fortune, they recollect the past as to read Sein und Zeit
mention philosophy to itinerant monks on board to Nányuè
endlessly reciting sutras of the Buddha to memorize his words
of ontological inscape, being within interiority
forget a word or phrase, misread the transmission as the voice of YHWH
The Tetragrammaton in books of the Torah to confuse two canons
humble drones in their hive work together to clear the air of mistakes, birds
inaccurate chatter as sparrows in a bush lacking authority
notwithstanding decades of study, ancient tongues, both Sanskrit and Pali
genuine languages handed down by masters, patriarchs as salmon
swimming upstream to spawn, so many obstacles, distractions in Bali
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