Back in the old world 3

EPL- INFORMATION FOR YOUR BUILDING SOUL Back in the old world The constituents of life lost its luster. In the first world when an elder had reached his stage of transition he would often tell the story of his life as a a poetic song a play or dance. It was his right to make his story a part of the greatness of the all. From the simple days of cultivation for his people to the hard times when famine or strive rarely came upon the many his face showed like rings of a tree and the bark that it produced. “I have produced many I have been taught much” the elder would exclaim with his heart expression as the drumming and chimes would sync with his soul. But this was another world and another place entirely. As eras and worlds have past and great foreseen tribulations came and went the universe and those places that bonded into form got warn. Souls traveling through hurriedly to carry no true memories but the essence of their souls no longer relished in the process and would immolate them he selves knowing that the consequence of removal from the fabric of all would be catastrophic. No heaven truly came. The ones they could not untangle from the monotony of repetition nor the slow churning agony of the wheel. All those who would not give in to the cause would go on shining but no reward for virtue would be granted. The true gift had then become obvious and they knew that God was dead. For you see the true gift is to build up so much power that you implode by will. That force can then be summoned by another to take on this task as burden. The many eras past and there was no one to pass anything of value onto. The cold tea ok over the land, the planets and the seas. Stars of the great force had nothing to shine for and over aeons their traveling flickers soon went out like candles do when burned to long. Eternity had eventually quit at will. There in the deepest regions of empty space where absolute zero had tripled itself the crystal grew. Locking in light and pulsing with color there the prism hung as processions and the wheel froze. No more time. No more noise. No more movement. Colder and colder still until the last morsels of form fragmented. Some chaos of colliding bodies took place outside over the grand expanse but eventually they very froze in place and the great status of nothingness in equilibrium to itself was complete. This is our end. When the gods and masters lost their personas of egoic selfhood. The strife was gone life was gone not one living organism of the tiniest hint of a form was. What was it all for? Why did it ever need to happen? And the crystal shimmering under the density of ice throughout ages pulsed. Inside all that ever mattered was contained. No intelligence could discern it. No amount of contemplation could decode it. In the desolation of solid rock, ice and permafrost in ruin there was nothingness. Somehow everything that ever was and ever would be again bounced in frozen pulse a dim lit light and it had a name and it’s name was your name.