The eternal cynic. The eternal sour singer, looks at everything in awe , in wrong.
He sees not himself nor anything else in reality, he loves the illusion of his own admissions at impotence. He is impotent. But not to do something. That everyone is impotent in their own way. He is impotent to think. He hates to think, I mean the thoughts that lead to the state of thoughtlessness. He ponders yet he is afraid of the results which this introspection will lead him to. He thinks he is right and wrong. But he feels that he is always right. He wants to be nice and good and always upright. But he also ‘knows’ that he can never be such things, for he believes in the illusion that they exist. And anyone with half an inch of understanding will know that his death is more real than these morals.
He is a cynic, He believes that his death is unreal. That he will live forever, though he might talk of death; either others or his own. But death doesn’t exist for him. He cannot comprehend it even if he spends hours every day pondering on it.
He sings sour, he has no soul and anyone without a soul, cannot dance nor sing. He does neither; He thinks it can be pulled of without soul.
He has hate in himself, borne again and again; he believes that there is his righteousness in question, He might look like a saint, but understand this very deeply, He is the utmost of devils.
As the night approaches, the voodoo people come out of their hiding, they walk freely, they remain in the stillness of the dark, they lurk in the shadows. This is not metaphoric but rather something of the truth. They cannot be seen by the eyes given to us, rather they can be smelt and perhaps even be heard at times. They are in states of different consciousness. They are in different realms all together. As our sensory outputs change, we can see these people. These entities. These energies.
When we become dull, when we lose our sense of being. Then we cannot see nor smell nor hear these entities. Let us make ourselves more flaccid , much more easier to be, and I assure you , we will be able to see these people. They are monstrous. Not in the classical sense. But you will get to understand what I am saying when you have encountered what I have. Seen what I have seen. And been where I have been
I have myself been a part of the voodoo people… I have understood the morbidity that can take you to the realms where these entities reside. Where these state of being can be expressed in freedom like the sloth which we are shown so freely as of now.
To be of one of these creatures of the night, there must be insolent need for power. Power not seen nor felt. Power which is . power which can be only experienced.
I have not been close to anyone in my entire life. I have seen suffering and that has made me morose and even morbid. This is what is needed to become a voodoo person. To understand that all things end. And hence find no need for anything. This is dispassion according to the masters, but when you see it through the eyes of the voodoo people. Then this manifests as something darker than dispassion. There is no need for anything or anyone, hence no need exists for anything good or relative good either.
There is no bad or good in my books, there is nothing as beneficial or malefic as I see, yet there was a tendency in me to move to the darker side of things, I moved to night arts. To clairvoyance and to deliver blows to entities when they least expected it. I understood the basic principles by which this universe worked. And now I used it as I wished.
This is the starting of the power struggle. This is the state which we may encounter in the early stages of the making of the voodoo entities.. oh and of course I could not be destroyed. I could not be finished, I could not be killed or confined. This wasn’t an egotistical statement, but true to the core. This is what makes us voodoo people. This is the freedom that the bondage to the power brings. This is the ultimate of all freedom and also the saddest part of existence which one can bring upon themselves.