The balance between darkness and light is precious.
As a vortex, a spiral, a swirling seam of under into over and above into below. Cycles of time have dawned and set with their avatars, Osiris traversing the oceans of the sun and moon.

But only in the minds of some mystics have these realms intersected, crossed. Become one multiplicity that is dually a singularity.

The word that has failed to be uttered marks the birth of something the universe has never done before. The failure of our prophets and avatars has produced a new Game of Thrones.

The Aetheric Council, those of consciousness high enough to contend for influence in the astral, debate now which path our sentience will grow down.

Some have quite negative sentiments, and other believe in human potential. The human collective has never seen such descent. Like day and night, the push and pull grows further and further inward, sinking like a dark star.

But I offer you this: the power to determine what happens next. The world we live in is not just a collective illusion or a collective dream, it’s a collective wish. And to whom the will is the strongest, the wish will become the centerpiece of the zeitgeist.

The quotes below were taken from the PDF linked above.


“Nothing new under the sun”, said a one,
wafts of curling smoke frame his Tabaco Pipe,
he sinks into the desert crag
and shows no interest in the pop Idol suspended upside down,
hanging from the Palm tree fronds…
His eye does not tremble between twilight and midnight
His eye does not blink between dusk and dawn.
Ice is not a shiver
No sweat from a sweltering arid breeze.
The mountain man wields his temperance wisely,
with all the solemnity
of a gun

“Nothing new under the moon”, said a one again,
He sighs slices and quarters up the hours,
He smiles like a metronome in the drum-thump of time

Each time his eye meets my eyes
I lurch inwards, a carousal with old horses
but new ecstatic bids against the clockwork man,
to break him like a geode
each facet of partitioning would shatter
on the alter of the divine –
or the brow of the Sphinx

we are predestined to preclude each other
The mountain man and me
he’s a staccato, but my melodrama
is orchestrally spun and string-sung
And his boots follow the horizon of the encroaching sun,
knowing not where the shadows lie
but knowing I will be there among.

To find just one new thing…
Just one.

To this effort I became a Star
and ascended to new matrixes of dimension;
I sunk beneath the quantum foam
and outsped the speed of light;
I was cosmically compressed by infinitudes
within an Event horizon –
But never arrived at the Black Hole;
I returned even more naïve than I begun

I sprung upon his Chessboard
A Jack pouncing out Pandora’s Box
I painted alien shapes in the undermines
I danced in acausal sympathy for the moon
I’d been making strides towards parting the Sea,
when eventually, the mountain man noticed me

his Staff dragged through the red dust,
a chimera staff with an emerald handle,
instead of wood, its terminus ensnared a pair of serpentine vines,
but somewhere between the fibers and the bark,
somewhere demarcated on the tip of his Staff, for the Bold,
A living Rose kisses the golden coldness of a
flower lily likeness
but the old man sunders another step
and the central rose wilts into pastel ash
crumpled petals cling to the hewn of the staff
descend like ashfalls in an hourglass
a finite staff in the pocket of the infinite
blushes into an untold vastness beyond a thorn
but each pink speck is so many magnitudes distant
I know I can’t reach them,
for they model our stars.

The mountain man’s almond eyes were smoky
prone to the cracks of ceaseless weather
and the time-hustled creasing of bent sunflowers, eternally earnest
this was his patience in the valley of that grand canyon
the only interruption of a flickering mirage

all the vagaries of language deserted me
and what remained dried up in my lungs
before it could be spoken
melting like Icarus’ wax wings
but instead of spiraling towards the earth,
I merely lingered there
an arms breadth between our foreheads
And yet…
The only thing waiting on my bated breath
is wondering…?
Chaos is the winding unformed question’s churn, quicksilver bolts, mercury orbits a thunderstorm and the unformed question pops like corn kerbals humming
“What is the just one | Just one | one …”

echoes until it ends again



lying on the floor | waiting for stars to fall
the ceilings … | not a door |
The days pass by | And so do I
(…the TLDR:
I followed the yellow brick road because
I read on the internet
That I ought not to go there

is a bullet | My eyes trigger, which
opens an inner window that is | A secret sky
With a secret covenant called | “everything flies

Chaos | =
state of total a mess | nothing left to suppress |
the mess tumbling out the mattress’ nest |
called “what you see is what you get” |
It’s what chaos does, cuz
Face Value is the only valid currency left|
When everything subtle |
Becomes | in equal measure | profane///

Chaos | It’s So Strange
|I’ve been hybridized | cryptified | When order reigned |
I was the thing slated for erasure | dangerous because it speaks very well|
I only escaped for one reason… |
| I could not be measured|

& anyway,I’ve agreed to bury coincidence | And pronounce my Dice Dead
| I empathically synchronize happenstance | with the spells I’m casting | In my own head!
they stride alongside observations | of what a REAL chaos mage is like…
I’m a genius {but only sans script and pre plan}
I’m a spirit dancer | and Choreography Anathema
| my slopes are too steep to be square
and my arcs are grossly obtuse, they make very bad cylinders
my triangles are wyrd as well
my circles are eggs
all of them are actually eggs

Chaos | in summary | of the many methods | of unwise and mad men |
I have found ‘the one’ … which is the most fun
I guess 🙂

If I am right about things….

The collective consciousness should reflect my will.


I was intentional when I used the phrase
“Esper of the Essence”
So let me clarify why that is powerful as a phrase
An esper is attempting to relay a signal…a signal that changes reality.

An esper is a person who
-has exceptional influence on key ideas
and human themes,

-whose symbolic systems are not only personal, but also represent global attitudes and core conflicts. I might need to explain this more…
I have a colored animal that has always been special to me , and I know what it represents symbolically, so when it appears in my life it has a direct and obvious message I can interpret. But if I’m an esper, I may start to notice the colored animal I’ve coded to myself is appearing far more often and far more obviously than it ever did in the past.
If I was an esper, then I might say, there is a core theme of this particular symbolic entity which relates strongly to me, but also ENCAPSULATES a specific COLLECTIVE sentiment. In the case of the colored animal, as an esper, the more closely I have specified myself in the symbol, the more I will be able to act as an agent in changing the persistent symbolic messaging implied by the colored animal when it does explicitly appear. I can also, if I have a lot of control over the symbol (I really feel I “own” this particular symbol, for example) I can change the direction a story takes when it foreshadows or follows an aesthetic related to the symbol. I can make projections about people who are sensitive to the symbol…

-whose insights make inroads into what people tend to conceptualize
….lets say you have an esper, of no particular renown, with this idea about uncertainty in the quantum sense and the dual particle/wave structure of light is a solid philosophical premise for the fundamental reality of consciousness. this idea is really rare and not well known, and the esper writes about it but sees from site analytics only a dozen or two read what they’ve written in the day to day world.
….soon, though, the idea seems to be spontaneously accessible to people that have never interacted with the esper before. it’s not because they are listening to the things the esper wrote or copying them, they have independantly reached the same conclusion.
….basically the idea is that the difference between the esper having this insight and anyone else having this insight is the degree of accessibility others will have in reaching the same insight.
When roads in the psyche are well tread, the brain has a very easy time accessing the road and sending information along it. this is true for anything we do, think, or say. repeated elicitation makes neurological impressions.
But I propose IDEAS also do this, and the more active they are in many people, the closer to conscious space these ideas stay.
Simultaneous scientific breakthrough is relatively common, because humanity collectively reaches milestones in knowledge for many people to put together the puzzle at different times.
A “Born” idea has an attraction field, so even the conception of a potential leaves breadcumbs to a fully realized form, to someone, somewhere.
And the ESPERS ideas are probably going to be noticed faster and in more contexts than with an average observer.
I guess you might call this “rapid prescience.”

The quality of prophecy or precognition is universally accepted in the esper scheme, although we haven’t had a true prophet in over a thousand years. All poets and most dreams are fully capable of being precognitive, but the prophetic esper is speaking with a very consistent and intentional authority which I’ve yet to encounter in the sense I intend….

So now that we get what an esper sort of does, let me say why and esper of the essence is important…
sigils and symbols can be thought to be the most concise, the most precise, and the most fundamental components of any idea or emotivity. This is all without unnecessarily constraining an idea, because that might close its future potential to elicit accurate intuitions. We have a lot of dead words and symbols now because they were sealed off too tightly in dogmatic reverence. This is true of religion AND science.

for gematria to have value beyond a tool of schizophrenic hyperassociation, as a tool that actually shows structural similarity in the characteristics of the expression, a word or phrase has a natural sweet spot where adding or removing any letters, prefixes, or changing conjugation could only detract from the expression of the essence.
when it works it will do so obviously and demonstrate impossibly unlikely “coincidence”; spontaneously linking exact phrases with one another, matching the numerical values of expressions exactly within a short period of time through only intuition…
thats ONE of MANY ways you could make gematria quite useful. even if you get nothing out of it but a very qualified system of association, it is generally good for showing you, based on the results, how high your agreement is with the ESSENCE of the Expression.
If an idea is linguistically essential , it will be very obvious after review if the word’s essence was ringing church bells or dingy dinner bells.
To the system of an Esper who names Essences, distillation of symbols and names are valuable substrates to parse

The better fitted and more obvious a symbol is to fit its system of representation, the more nuanced and meaningfully it will transmit itself among individuals.

Last note about an esper, and an esper sensitive to an essence. the fact that the internal world of the esper influences people collectively, might be because the reverse is exceedingly true.
A person who has a lot of feedback to collective feelings and symbols is going to recreate or emulate that feedback so it can be individually processed…this might restructure it, but the transformation of a collective essence into a highly personal one is a hugely significant alchemical act of integration.

All of these desrcriptions have been nibbling at a far broader and more vague transmissions of sentiment. The important part is that a symbol isn’t something you put in the platonic garden and admire, a functional symbol is an actionable dialogue between essence and identity – collective or personal.


  1. The funny thing about the true numerology, is that most names condense to themselves. In other words, someone named Petunia McSmithenstein, will always have the name “pet”. Such is destiny, tho peddling humans always try to escape it, with their “names”.


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