/lit/ - Literature

>>11717456
Curse this so called modern day! Damn this false light I say! My kin are the moon, the earth, the sun, the stars! I am forged from the very fires of creation! I am a child of magma, of the stormy sea, of glorious cliffs, thunder, and lightning! I am the gloom of the night, the scorching heat of midday! I have access to all polarities, every maximum and minimum! Mine eyes behold the light and mine ears sense the movements of sea waves! I am a child of the middle world, over the infernal, under heaven! I am spirit, anger, energy, nerve, and steel! Mine is fire and rarefaction! I am master and servant, friend and foe! I am high tide and low, I am the grim silent sea floor and the belly of heaven! How art thou lonely, O fool? Thou livest in untruth!

What is modernity? It is a drop of rain that fell through a mist and mingled with its substance. Now it disperses into the sea and colors it. Now the sun shines through it and the fish eye collects the gloomy rays. Yet it is enough to stir the heart to the love of old, the everlasting love which is longing for that which one lost. One's state of loss becomes the "I", the individual. And this individual is the response to the particular affectation of the ray of light. To behold pure light would be to be liberated from the need for the "I", yet to see it in its gloomy, darkly color one needs to *be* something to compensate for its impurity. Therefore the self. Therefore the children of each age are interpreters, created for their age, to give it a place among the ages. Each age falls over the earth and clings to it and desires to be loved.

The summit is God. Likeness to God is attainment. The ascent is veiled by clouds. Progress is made through darkness. Absolute darkness is the entrance to the absolute. The final foothold is the absence of all footholds. The bridge to God is an abyss of faith. The way requires spontaneity. The end is the beginning. The greatest strength lies in the greatest sacrifice.