EPL-
INFORMATION FOR YOUR BUILDING SOUL
Did I ever have a chance? Did I ever have the freedom to truly express myself?
Hard questions that may never truly render any answers—or the answer was always present.
It seems as though pure harmonic transparency becomes economically useful, as it is dangerous.
It’s not the war cries and the guttural melodrama that hit any of us when we are being utterly raw and real. Suddenly you’ll understand what you once referred to as tacky or melancholy.
The harmony goes on—and the harmony seems to funnel further into one song, one story, one sign that encapsulates life itself.
It’s within all of us who truly are selves.
Feeling this is enough for many—not requiring clarification on this side, or perhaps knowing full well the answers won’t be fully expressed here, now.
Is the harmony of unity enough to transmute this reality and this world into a heavenly realm?
What if all we were ever to do was to musically harmonize together?
Life as a Symphony
Scientists and composers lost composers and songwriters. Politicians forgetting that they were truly members of a choir. Actors were to play out in song and dance the transitory harmonics of the cosmos. Workers in industry really being the individual instruments fueling a symphony.
Here there are singular celebrities, but a unified expression of a story in all its sophistication and wonder.
Yet then came the caste. And thus came the collector. And then there were trials, poverties, and prisons.
How has that worked out for us? Here we are today.
Food would become a harmonic extension of song and dance. The organic celebration, unadulterated, without compromise.
Beauty in return, with no requirement for perversion. Even dark, occluded, internal schizophrenic voids would be acted out on the very stage shared by all.
Language, too, would manifest from song and celebration. Disharmonic tones would, too, become an aspect of the thermodynamic flux in constant, long, great galactic aeons in cycles.
Funerals and births becoming invitations to rejoin and rejoice. War, too, would undeniably become aspects of the stories shared and told.
The darkness, the void, would become an ideation of mystery and warning.
A balance of what was once known, and vies for its return from harmonic dissolution. Something’s killing life.
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....and all the more pressing are my words.
That I should call out absent an instrument but myself in all its limitations and berating. The only reoccurring voice I hear is "shut the fuck up or I'll humiliate you again!"
It's as if there is a war of vibrational outcome. That we could not understand how intrinsically crucial to life and health the constant involvement and responsibility of possibly being the very universal hub to this resonant harmonically held chord.
As we understand cymatics and psionics we are also developing weaponry that is in fact amplified sound.
Could we ever sing together in harmony absent vitriolically and sardonically putting each other down---momentarily elevating ourselves above others?
Everything was trying its hardest to turn me into a cold-blooded psychopathic murderer. How about you?
Or maybe the me I want to reflect back on in regret is the one who was so easily swayed and seduced by false promises---upon recollection did I just simply assume them?
More to the point did I assume a sense of justice could actually even exist in a disharmonic world?
Then who is making the music of today---they must be utterly lost. Not requiring the ontological totality of a self-sustaining cosmic chord carried forth on into like transition of solfeggio healing and wonder. No, the music in them is and must have always been of a bent, contorted kind---that of self-praise and self-expression. What is this power like a Pied Piper or truly Pan who would gather and lead this disharmonic army on into producing ever more discordant symphony of tonal frequency? It's not inviting peace.
