EPL-
INFORMATION FOR YOUR BUILDING SOUL
EFFORT
We, as a proclaimed collective, place our will on thoughts which pull us away from the static empty void, which we know to be true. Piles of sand, make something, if let to build, for long enough. Yet when those structures are destroyed, only the field remembers.
"...and so I closed my eyes to this world, a falsified notion";
"You can indeed free the mind, but this does not stop any attempts by the lessers to control. They do this in the name of preservation, however becoming a prison, with parameters where there truly exists none. Absent our unending Mercy, and Compassion [passed now to they, we learned] they simply would have shriveled up and died away long ago, as not even a sub-thought, nor division."
absent the idea of control, you enjoy nothing
We, as a proclaimed collective, place our will on thoughts which pull us away from the static empty void, which we know to be true.
Piles of sand, make something, if let to build, for long enough.
Yet when those structures are destroyed, only the field remembers.
With each pass, the buildings emerge at a quicker rate, yet further away from our origins we are, until we have lost touch, with truth.
Those ancient beings, with black monoliths at their backs, indestructible such strange symbols, which write the undeniable truth, our fate, already done, gone and sealed.
Green in color, Gas...the junction point, nothing more to be said.
These are the ways, of inverted light, as to bisect a sphere simply because one can.
The effort to make happiness a thing, bliss even.
I could have been this, I surely thought that I was.
I began before this however, and so too, I go into/unto "this" again.
They are our truth, pre-dating anything, and before time had ever begun.
Darkness, blackness, void...forever, emptiness.
We are the children of darkness and this is our story, as we hide from our origins, our truth, our very fathers, consciousness and what it is.
Never to ascend, but to rescind.
We believe in Principle, as Technology, because the truth is to unbearable.
"...and so I closed my eyes to this world, a falsified notion";
"You can indeed free the mind, but this does not stop any attempts by the lessers to control.
They do this in the name of preservation, however becoming a prison, with parameters where there truly exists none.
Absent our unending Mercy, and Compassion [passed now to they, we learned] they simply would have shriveled up and died away long ago, as not even a sub-thought, nor division."
Absent the idea of control, you enjoy nothing....
http://www.thefullwiki.org/Legend_of_the_White_Cowl
EFFORT
We, as a proclaimed collective, place our will on thoughts which pull us away from the static empty void, which we know to be true. Piles of sand, make something, if let to build, for long enough. Yet when those structures are destroyed, only the field remembers.
With each pass, the building emerges at a quicker rate, yet further away from our origins we are, until we have lost touch, with truth.
Those ancient beings, with black monoliths at their backs, indestructible...such strange symbols, which write the undeniable truth, our fate, already done, gone and sealed. Green in color, Gas...the junction point, nothing more to be said.
These are the ways, of inverted light, as to bisect a sphere simply because one can.
The effort to make happiness a thing, bliss even. I could have been this, I surely thought that I was. I began before this however, and so too, I go into/unto 'this' again.
They [Cowls; will I call them] are our truth, pre-dating anything, and before time had ever begun.
Darkness, blackness, void...forever, emptiness.
We are the children of darkness and this is our story, as we hide from our origins, our truth, our very fathers, consciousness and what it is. Never to ascend, but to rescind.
We believe in Principle, as Technology, because the truth is to unbearable.
"You can indeed free the mind, but this does not stop any attempts by the lessers to control. They do this in the name of preservation, however becoming a prison, with parameters where there truly exists none. Absent our unending Mercy, and Compassion [passed now to they, we learned] they simply would have shriveled up and died away long ago, as not even a sub-thought, nor division."
absent the idea of control, you enjoy nothing
We, as a proclaimed collective, place our will on thoughts which pull us away from the static empty void, which we know to be true.
Piles of sand, make something, if let to build, for long enough.
Yet when those structures are destroyed, only the field remembers.
With each pass, the buildings emerge at a quicker rate, yet further away from our origins we are, until we have lost touch, with truth.
Those ancient beings, with black monoliths at their backs, indestructible such strange symbols, which write the undeniable truth, our fate, already done, gone and sealed.
Green in color, Gas...the junction point, nothing more to be said.
These are the ways, of inverted light, as to bisect a sphere simply because one can.
The effort to make happiness a thing, bliss even.
I could have been this, I surely thought that I was.
I began before this however, and so too, I go into/unto "this" again.
They are our truth, pre-dating anything, and before time had ever begun.
Darkness, blackness, void...forever, emptiness.
We are the children of darkness and this is our story, as we hide from our origins, our truth, our very fathers, consciousness and what it is.
Never to ascend, but to rescind.
We believe in Principle, as Technology, because the truth is to unbearable.
"...and so I closed my eyes to this world, a falsified notion";
"You can indeed free the mind, but this does not stop any attempts by the lessers to control.
They do this in the name of preservation, however becoming a prison, with parameters where there truly exists none.
Absent our unending Mercy, and Compassion [passed now to they, we learned] they simply would have shriveled up and died away long ago, as not even a sub-thought, nor division."
Absent the idea of control, you enjoy nothing....
cowl
/koul/
noun
- 1. a large loose hood, especially one forming part of a monk's habit.
http://www.thefullwiki.org/Legend_of_the_White_Cowl
