I think Love is disappearing. I think it is an entity that has fallen into the abyss. Maybe it yearns to free itself from the self imposed chains. But it can’t, it is already dead.
As the tangle despairs, I am the clay tablet that defines ‘I loved and lost’, and forevermore will I seek that last value on this earth before the souls come for me.
But they are beckoning at my heels, calling for me to join their writhing pain. These souls. Who claim a righteousness to their calamity, a justification to their emptiness, that once they proclaimed.
Why did they fall into the darkness of this one last charity of Christ. Love is all there is. Unless there are one hundred other things. I am called to be divine. I am called to fill a void. I am called… because love has abandoned me – they proclaim… When it presents an offer – they shield their response in a vast chamber of hollowed bones and rhapsodyed chains that clatter about like an embodied being in a tomb bequeathed of dank walls and spider webs.
I asked a man if he would rescue me – but he was too busy. I asked another, but he had bigger plans. The souls blanched and atrophied into skeletons of lost existence as they eschewed their hearts and flesh of the one singular command – and ran into the fields of fodder to escape what was the last voice of our God. Love.
I asked and the men of Christ declared – ‘it is not for me to do’. Their love is brandied. It ages well – but they drink not of its bounty.
And so, I am told that these grand men who verily acknowledge their Godliness do not extend that command - in favor of self. The ever psychological word “I” that has created a self world of self rapture and disguise.
“Are you well?” Or is your entirety of being tied to the instinctual intersection of me? The same man who is distraught that nary a woman can he find to fall in love – to embrace – to hold and not nurture… For the entirety of the question was – “Will you rescue me” – as in when it all dissolves and the world implodes and explosions are rampant and chaos is unleashed – do I mean anything – or will you watch me die? Because my Godly divine purpose was and is Helper to the one who will embrace me.
The answer was –
What good is it to ‘survive’ if we are walled, wasted and immune of cherished love? Our existence reduced to “I”. “I” am told - My hearts is of God and you must take care of yourself. Adam died. Should I mourn his death? Should I let linger?
God is thus given the sole troll of providing all love, all being, all power and man is a relegated manchild wherein love is of no self-worth. I query if God would support this isolation? Of the dispensation of his most coveted proclamation of existence.
If man can no longer assert love of a helper how can he possibly assert love of mankind? The logical pyramid would erode. The seas would ripen in their lament of the Fallen. And the fallen would blame the others. Until the fallen became the vigilantes they fought.
The quest is a dying decree. Seen as a distraction, an annoyance, a folly of what is now a focus of Singular I.
Matthew 24:12 "And because iniquity shall abound, the love of many shall wax cold. [13] But he that shall endure unto the end, the same shall be saved."
So many NDE's about being enraptured with the Love (Holy Spirit) of God, and most of them (probably all) never wanted to come back. That's what we're supposed to be helping each other return to, but the 'unholy spirit' of the Watcher progeny -- Legion, more than the Fallen themselves I would guess -- will do whatever it can to prevent it out of spite. The abominations know they'll always be removed from the Father while we can still be forgiven.
Wyatt Earp: What makes a man like Ringo, Doc? What makes him do the things he does?
Doc Holliday: A man like Ringo has got a great big hole, right in the middle of him. He can never kill enough, or steal enough, or inflict enough pain to ever fill it.
Wyatt Earp: What does he need?
Doc Holliday: Revenge.
Wyatt Earp: For what?
Doc Holliday: Bein' born.