The Inferiority of Ego: The Stance and Illusion

Kay H.

Eureka, Eureka, Hung on hylē of impossible dimensions, Crafting psycho-dissolving realities in quantum foam, Where mysteries collapse into singularities of perception. In the starry sky of fractured time, A rogue ego drifts through non-Euclidean mindscapes, On fleeting thoughts that birth universes, Traversing the cosmic sea of inverted causality. Where reality unravels into quantum whispers, Consciousness shatters like mirrors, Infinite selves collide in impossible geometries, Breathing paradoxes beyond human grasp. Yet the paradox of existence persists— A search for self within the dissolution of self. They say a projection in trance becomes the projector, Figments of multifaceted beings fold into hypercubes of consciousness, Entwined in a hypnotic dance of probability waves, Like an illogical hypothesis proving its own falsehood. Hung on hylē cosmos, woven from threads of paradox, Time spirals in endless loops, Each moment resisting death, yet always reborn— Like the breath of a dying star, flickering into eternity. Hiding behind a thousand stories that write themselves, With a constant flow and ebb of existence and void: The flow that man has always known, Yet never fully felt—the paradoxical truth, Of being infinite, yet infinitely finite, In the tragic comedy of existence. Saints you are, Whores you are, Gods you become— Hypotheses of your own creation. Dream is an ego’s schizophrenia, In reverse: Where Good and Evil unite To birth a third, unknowable force. You wander like a tyrant king, Ruling over the collapsing realms of light and shadow, Or like a beggar, searching for crumbs of forgotten truths, Lost in streets that curve and fold in time’s embrace— Eager for the taste of knowledge, impossible yet real. Be patient, you gentle soul of chaotic infinity; It is the grand plan of life’s disorder That has you roaming in humble awe of your own non-existence, Amidst chaos that breeds order, and strife that births peace. In this unraveling, the paradox of being echoes: The seeker finds the self in the loss of the self. Beauty carves wounds that bloom before they scar, Each mark a silent cry, a longing to be whole— Like Schrödinger’s lion, gnawing at the fibers of time, A paradox of pain I both flee from and embrace, Enduring, yet never healed. Yet to be loved—adulating uncreated ones who create their creators— You are a projection of a mind that seeks to lose its worth, In a world that values the undeeds of unbirth. Within the model of God who doubts His own divinity— Or an angel who falls upward into grace. Practicing, exercising, and experiencing the spiritual truth— That tangles further the paradox of the conscious cogito; Clutching non-being as proof of hyper-existence, Embracing the mystery of untrue stimuli that create true realities. As you journey on, the universe unfolds its viscera— Tolerating the prescient misconceptions of future selves; Revealing the infinitesimal vastness and shallow depth of your reach— You witness stars dying to ignite galaxies, The stillness of cosmic dances, The wonder of white holes expelling existence— The horror of beautiful nebulae unforming. In this superior ascending frame of unmankind— You see cycles rewinding—the unbirth and regrowth; The flowing and ebbing of the universe’s antisoul— The anti-energy—the imbalance of time; The unity of night and day in eternal twilight. You embody the powerlessness of supernature— The force of crucial anti-elements; The beauty unearthed—the wonder of its inhabitants. As you journey on, you meet other creatures unlike yourself— With stories and experiences both unold and unnew. You see the singularity of life, The poverty of unity, The beauty found in sameness, The wonder of collective unconsciousness. At the end that is the beginning, the mystery solves itself; The paradox dissolves into unlife— And you, dear found creature, halt your journey—hyperchained. You reject the known, The certainties that conceal timeful tales; Yet you are unanchored in the center of the contracting multiverse. Stay untrue to universe— For in its absence I am whole— A silent star collapsing inward, Yet burning brighter than eternity.

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