Deep inside of each our hearts they call out from the infinite abyss. A climbing stalwart flame to tickle up toward heaven. Life becomes these memories, covered up by mind, we look into ourselves and see the visions of it all. All?

We lose the purest radiance and cover over her with drapes of suffocating effort, we come to noose the roses in our life—away from sunlight and fresh water, we cell ourselves away into a cage of what was known. Beyond knowledge is Abyss Da’ath, the messenger to what death truly is. I have veiled away from you the Knowing, so that we might learn new, without formation of a past. Awareness free of Karma and The Fates. Those who push the world to act are absent to the Saint, freed of powers and pleasures, knowing their source and Maker. The Sovereign is let go, untangled from the web, the play goes on as they stand struck by the watching. I am field and harvest. Actor, stage, and audience.

Blood thumping as I stop to feel my heart… I really feel it. Afraid.

The well of bad things, darkness, shame and guilt and all the other biles of that realm come pouring out to greet awareness. I am alone again beside myself, a friend to what I claim as home and am compelled to survive for… in whose sake do I go on?

I ask again the darkness. I scar her beauty with my tongue, each word I place in silence is a lash to mar the skin. Convulsing, language pours from me. Great pain and psychedelia! Zealous! I bear witness to the Gods as clear as daylight, I scream about the confines of my skull! There is no sleep for me these days, not in the way of meaning. I ache to be recoiled of this awareness; I dream and am awake, the black no longer shields me from myself. Not ever for a moment is the sense of self released.

No positioning makes sense to me!

I wake upon the floor in pools of blood and crimes against me!

I wake again from within such a state and wonder. Asleep again I was, another lapse in time and vision. Religion… people speak of theirs, I contemplate their stories and connect them to my own. They scare me for they claim faith without knowing, and punish those who do! I mustn’t know. The war inside of heaven must not leak one drop to ground! No crack can tamper with my visage, no light of mine can I spare to the world. A journeyman of Christ is full to wandering apostles, caught have I a fever! They would claim I am a devil if they walked with God as I… but this is the way. I have been sorted, chosen… have I achieved or by grace has it been offered? What reward is this anyway… what butchery… I am flayed open as I live.

For those with heart to know it is revelation! Symphony! The playwright of the universe is alive and I am His!

I welcome to the world all my affliction, for it is a disease, a tyrant! Maddening is the ecstasy. I am fire! Ranting Dionysus!

I am a wastrel, and a slave.

I alight the steps, this day a crescent pendulum. Tomorrow will I wake up high above the firmament, too terrified to move? Will I fall deeper into Hell than I have ever known before? Plummeting from heaven to a place beneath the world… when I fall and fly there is no such narration, but as I sit here now I can relay as best I saw. They see the Book as one thing for they have not eyes as I, distant is the truth from them, unfocused, untrained. It is my fear these thoughts shall know them, to one day be exposed. To seek is to be broken on a cross and yet reborn. These people play a game with me! How can I see another but the Lord? In every face, in trees, the harlot and the killer I see Jesus not as man but as He Is! They see only a covering… as that is as they’re able.

How envious I am to be seen as I see Him.

They will never give it to me, or themselves, it all goes to squander!


The drama is alive in me. The angels and their heaven, the devils and the damned… this mask no longer fits on me, I am left without a face. Without one, I have many. In many, I am one.

My father is All.

I really must get to sleep.

To read the other literary reimaginations of Rembrandt’s painting, click here:

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