As Above, Hence Surely Below

A sanctuary amongst the clouds, such that even its most ancient inhabitants may lose their way between loftiness and humility. For the millions who clamor beneath its peaks, what would they not sacrifice for the mere opportunity to lick the cesspool of clouds with famished tongues? Yet a scroll-bearing sage patrols the mountains, eager to reverse the spelling of Ascension. Who dares wager on the permanence of notions such as verticality, which might one day hurl those who spin their wheels in the sanctuary, mocking the plight of the cesspool lickers, unto the very lands they despise, shattering their illusions to smithereens? For what is looking down, but a subjective inversion of glancing up? Amidst the beauty of the mountains, however, we may happily conclude that contradiction, delineation and division serve nothing than to draw us nearer to Marxist harlequins. Ponder, instead, on the One in All and All in One; on planting sorghum on an assembly of clouds; of carving ivory on mud-ridden plains. Then shall the universe hand you a key, a ticket to the theatre of infinite continuity, after which every dream sanctuary shall be erected firmly on the landscapes of your heart.

The Voyager

The voyager trekked along treacherous mountains, stooping low to collect the rocks that stoically defend every vestige of his existence, till one peculiar morning came to pass where he found himself at the edge of a majestic cliff. There he sobbed, and as the escalating realization of his sheer finitude came upon him, he beheld the countenance of the sun. “O Mighty and Reverent Disk of Life! Have you risen to the peak for the solitary purpose of mocking my inadequacies? Has every nourishing ray, which I used to cherish from afar, conspired to beckon me forth to this get-together? I shudder at the lacerating coldness which you ingeniously conceal!” Whereupon the Sun hissed in all its thunderous glory, “Vanity! The pursuit of ideals; the leapfrogging of ambitions which seduces you to chase after infinity; the puerile aspiration of peering into the countenance of your precipice…those have led you to defy the holes in your moccasins.” It was at this moment when the Duplicate; the miniature voyager burst forth from the seeming beyond, teeming with young life, erupting into a mystifying cry of both victory and defeat. And on this day, as the sun continues its eternal glare, a second voyager is born.