We believed that we were being saved from the ravages of time. We believed that The Father of All Heavens, The All-Mighty One, that he would save us from the torments of being alone, of being unsane human consciousness in the form of being.
Master Redford convinced us that we were dead. That without death there was no way that one could join the promise. And the promise was eternal consciousness. No-one knew what this meant, but our hearts heard before our ears registered. How possible that is, I can't tell you; the important thing is this; these things happened to us. These things happened to me.
Picture a block of cityscape. See this, a road, lined with cement, rock, asphalt, trees along the sidelines. Little numbers in front of our homes, denoting how one fit into the system of the creature.
Expect everything that people expected you to expect; blue birds, twittering in the curling branches and the ants in line, chattering up towards the top of the trees trunk. Coyotes at night. Dogs behind fences, viciously barking for something incomprehensible.
Beware of dog.
Karmic Beauracracy ( . . .)