An open letter to the God/Devil

Dear God and Lucifer,

I see what you're doing, quite a very nifty trickery we have made for ourselves. A balancing act of snakes and saviors, thrown into an interactive marble maze. The spheres rest on a platform, eternal pillars of contradiction, difficult to distinguish between cultish worship of that all too beautiful angel and the one which vanity emerged from despite. This is some casino you've made for yourself fellas, the gambles of chance and chaos so vast and numerous that order is the only eventual outcome. The struggle between the lesser and the fish, that illusion of self whom we owe this whole dramatic anomaly to.

A distrust, a cross decorated with flesh, blood and bread, manna patiently awaiting awakening in the center of the head. The serpents constricting our spines, destined to push the mind through the unseen crown of the fortunately foolish kings and quiet queens of eternity. What piece of stone could bring peace on this rock? Philosophers finding themselves staring out into the darkness of the demiurge, looking for the truth, whom is whom in this faith of utter deception. Does it matter, I ask the both of you, who of the two are different from you? The alchemist commissioned through personal conviction to manifest a plane for man to fester in, or some Lord whom forced that daemon to make matter from nothing. None are to blame, for we are both, and so time is our own beast that we must tame.

Our energy is fate, our fire consuming, our body a blooming garden of lotus flowers. With followers of paths tread by the dead and forever living, why would something claimed to be so benevolent and understanding even bother with the desire to be recognized by worship? Sounds like a very vain concept, to demand worship by those seeking salvation from stories they do not understand. Seems as though man made both of these dualistic demigods, and they made us, we are all products of some immortal child's imagination, continuing to build on the plot of some cosmic sandbox. None is wrong or right, the only reasonable answer comes from the question of Love. Where does this inexplicable focal point of everything stem from, is it a fabrication that we have created? or did Love create itself? is it eternal, is it a secret that we have already revealed and are too afraid to admit the vulnerability that would follow?

God and Mister master alchemist architect Lucifer, the dueling snakes, the contradicting pillars of energy and matter that hold this illusion together. I am here to say thanks, you have done a great job, making this whole beautifully horrifying tale. One that is questioned, countered, dismissed, resisted, and all too often accepted by an unthinking majority. I know what you've done, made myths of cloud cities and burning lakes, given the people something to visualize because they would be lost without imaginative fables. The trickster and the ancient, the fool and the king, a court most high with angelic slavery and a below of serpentine cycles in savory salvation. The war in the middle ground, the healthy conflict of unknown outcome for it has already been decided. The end is never near, instead always here, waiting to be a beginning again. We came here to conquer ourselves, to decide which rite we would submit to, we make our own paradise, or get lost in the forest of our own ego. Setting it ablaze to emerge from the ashes a bird made from the flame of some demonic dream turned nightmare. We lose control to tie the rope tighter, we witness the snake consume itself as an eternal feast, we live and die to say the least.

Most of all, you couple of necessary archetypes, you have made men masters of doubt. Skeptical of the very existence they cannot look beyond, trapped in this turtle shell of confusion. You have made some enemies of truth, given them the chance to hold the veil, and man have they failed. Again, thank you, this scheme of brilliance amid a disillusionment of amnesia is wildly entertaining. How wondrous, the senseless suffering of us fueling the continuation of our own foolish devices that intelligently design unseen scenery in the fold of our time space blanket. You have given a bunch of animals the chance to mold their own heaven or hell from the metal of antimony, it is up to them, who are both of you.

Love,
A.D.IV