Diversionary Cosmic Lens.

Diversionary Cosmic Lens

The torch of neglect and abuse—passed quietly from one generation to the next—burns as both inheritance and contagion. This Stockholm gaslighting, this trauma-bonded offering, is delivered under the guise of care, as though to lift the burden of purity from the bloodline, to spare the individual from the weight of uncorrupted being.

It is an unspoken campaign shared across humanity: to lower the standard, to dim the light, to avert the gaze of apathetic gods. Nothing to see here, we say, as if lowering ourselves might protect us from divine scrutiny. Thus, the torch passes—not as symbol of enlightenment—but as declaration: We, as Man, seek no ascent, no overthrow of power, no higher throne of moral order.

The infection spreads in gradients of banality, each generation weaker than the last—ineffectual, compliant, unrebellious. We live now without resistance, without secret cause, content to exist without ever having asked to be.

And there it sits—the chalice of greatness—buried beneath centuries of dust and neglect. From the feminine awkwardness of deliberate deviation rose a theatre of lesser games, diversions masquerading as nuance. “We still eat, live, and survive,” they whisper—yet in our survival, we have lost meaning itself.

What remains is a grotesque shadow of our former prominence. Through the eons, the reduction has continued until man stands before a final firewall of diminishment—so far removed from origin that even the memory of what he fled has vanished.

This is the Diversionary Cosmic Lens:

A mirror turned away from truth, refracting only the faint echo of what once aspired to be divine.