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.