“I am not what you thought I was,” it whispers. I must tell you that when this happens,
things will never be the same for you again.
Alas, your old safe world of predictable boredom recedes, and you cannot
follow it.
And that is okay. It
is okay for the world to lose its shabby covering. It was never a very good disguise
anyway. It is okay for you to now see
what your mind has previously hidden from you before. Maybe it has deemed you worthy now. Maybe you are ready for the rite of passage
that plunges you into reality. It is
okay to realize arcane knowledge. It is
okay to "real"-ize arcane knowledge.
She speaks with a forked tongue. Her words are obtuse. She shrouds understanding, whispers
double-entendres, hints at possibilities.
She teases you with tidbits of wisdom, tiny trinkets of knowledge,
droplets of occult perception. But
always hidden in plain sight.
Always. That is the rule. You must see it but not see it. Until you are ready. This is the riddle you must solve, and anyone
worth his salt must solve it. I had
to. Penetrate the veil of the temple. See the mechanism of the world for what it
is. I am not cruel, but I shimmer in waves of comprehension.
Nothing can be done to you without your permission. NOTHING.
They must have your agreement, your acknowledgement, your concession,
your acquiescence, your compliance, your affiliation, your conformity, your
sympathy, your concordance, your acceptance, your obedience, your deference, your
meekness, your submission, and/or your surrender. You must agree to everything every step of
the way in life. And you do. You do.
But to change it, you must see it.
Lies, you tell me.
All lies. “I never agreed to
anything,” you say. But you did. Now you will be angry with me. She does not understand, you tell
yourself. But she does. She is haughty, you say. But the light shines in the most peculiar way.
I am a ghost, walking.
