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2.
Woe the Flagrant
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he Nationel Reflecter come a-mulling: What manner of instroment is Life, to be so ill-playd by a bevvy of fools? These ears have heard some sad sonatae; but the score |
hath not been pennd that registreth in tunes the lowly spirit of such life as this into the which the King and our poepel all have lapst. For the Makers have devised the kingdems of men on earth like unto the body of a man, whereupon the single head ruleth, surely to fear not usurpation by its own ambishis ribs! Yet rude be the foot, rude the torso, that cometh saying unto the head, Begone by the way, for I am become head & ruler, to ascend upon that neck and rule. Wild, too, the head which abdicateth its perch in fear of the foot, and letteth the body to careen. Beware! Men living wylde bring their Makers to grief, and move them to visit down rafts of destructien. And a quashing away of those ill-playing wildtimers alway goeth before the push anew, by their Makers, to beget some finer successers to the hard-made world; a truer crew of players; the immaculot populace, meet for showing in the cosms as a good piece of work.
O, I me suppose (saith the Nationol Reflecter) how ’tis, out there with Makers. Out upon the void, a Maker hap saith, Let there be some suchstuff; and there is suchstuff. But lo! in that moment, his suchstuff scattereth away in the vast dispersion. For tho the Maker hath in his person the properties of dwelling, as from the very beginning there he be, yet those things that he doth fashion from the void have but the properties of the void, and not of dwelling, calld existense. Therefore pulleth he out then an smat of him self, and saith, Well, then, from this mine own essense I shall create, and lend of my coherense, fashiening an Unbalanced Moment against the empty balance of vast dispersien; and also a World I will conjure, for setting into rhythm thereupon the machines of Life. And the Maker, he ministereth unto the great unbalance and mindeth the rhythms as a loving tiller which tendeth his peyote, and saith, See, it is good, or good enogh. Or, good enogh for now.
Yet when that made-men live wild, and feet & torsos go aseeking after headsmanie, and rhythm decayeth unto discord; and when capital thoght of Kingship and Total Selfmanship prevaileth, and instant madness through the back door or front; then ariseth the antithetic, and the end of kilter, and the empty balanced moment entereth in, which no Maker, but only some mad Buff Rummy, the Devol, might enjoy to devise.
Hark & lissen. No Maker’s essense which he hath lended may to be corrupted in any wise, nor lost unto dispersien. Nyther may be made any work which negateth and undescribeth him. But when that there cometh an intrusien of nullity up against his orderings, then reacheth forth the Maker and gathereth up again his essence for recasting, that he be not diminisht any iota. For the iotic diminishment of a god is no possobilidy nor going thing. He giveth not him self unto dispersion, which is negaty; neither could it ever to receive him, for it too hath its standerds. And the other names of god are undispersion and exister. But, this were all that I surmise of Makers. What man surmiseth more?
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luminance
Ch.2
Topp