History with its intentional magnetic pull scratching on the inner eyes and ears, deletes the sincere investigation of what regard should be put upon one’s surroundings. And this is knowingly why schools were built in contemporaneous times. Putting in the place of direct understanding within the soft ungracious hidden cranial substance, an intervening obstacle to real learning !
Why should we adore with all our mindless attention the fruitless facsimiles crowding our brains and hearts ? Only to kiss the ass of some political cunt in the making ! Or who was made up before the eyes ever opened in the cradle.
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But history is a myth to be used intelligently. Like a grimoire recopied in negligence. But in faith, where ill-written letters & numbers depict living things filled with value. Parsimoniously, so that with what little we would suspect to know, we might invent some prosperous dream in the great and infinite Mind of the True Man to be. And there forget to be mesmerized by someone else still again, transforming all that fake knowledge we have gained into an Ideal and necessary instructive tool to reach forth into the inevitable tender darkness of our Great Divinity ! Making sign posts within the apparent inanity like furniture to be occupied in diverse rooms; further on, Theseus in the Middle Place of Places, rips the Minotaur to not ever do any longer any harm.
A circle with lines in it. Mysterious geometrical figures interpenetrating, appearing to give depth. To emptiness ! All this from on high, originating at the circum-polar countries where the Angel Folk still terrify, with ice and frigid touches.
Waiting to embrace those that are like them in thought action and deed. Like mortal curses on animal men, confounded by the blindness which strikes the flesh when interred !
Lines & circles & squares intermingled.