As the transcendentalists greet upon the blissful hum of Sant Mat, the family of light beheld times of possibility, where a last cicada was heard whirring it’s sacred last squeak before silent oblivion. In the year 3301 A.D. the echoes of an insect Pompeii rippled through the potentiality of our being, as a reminder of what might be and as a challenge not easy to face. Why 3301? Christ perhaps died at 33 years of age, we are famously told in the bible. He died, and from death came back The One. 3301? The failed times of eternal future silence, that were detected upon the crest of whispering echoes, give us an image of calamity within the darkest corners of our imaginations. Yet also there, is our chance to plan ahead.
Is the year 3301 just symbolic? Or did the far future place this test just only-so-far ahead, as a theoretical structure conceivable as a computer programmer might determine the bounds of given domain, or set the scope of a range. Fixed, perhaps; adjustable, we certainly hope so! Some intellectual mystery beyond our level of comprehension is posing there a haunting question, and a serious warning for us. In a time that we are currently hurtling towards inevitably, there was a complete end to something that we always assumed was a natural and common part of our natural world. It seems some other level has tried to touch this process through us. Be warned and forgive us our strange trespasses.
Who would have the ability to hear the message? If some did comprehend, who of those would take interest to any significant degree? Many would see, perhaps, that by the time that the Cicadas would apparently be silent, so would they. So, they might choose to ignore it all and get on with spending their hard-earned money on nice things. If some did decide they cared, who would actually take action to counteract it. After all, Cicadas are ‘only’ insects. If some did move to help, who would put it all on the line to make sure those tedious wailers keep on whistling their strange message into forever?
Only a strange minded, high sighted, pure hearted person would perhaps perceive the implications and walk to defuse the risk. No weapon formed against God’s chosen will prevail, we are told. Which would try? Would any, if it is really true that no weapon can succeed? A question was posed by some unknown force, and the answer has embarrassed established authorities on some issues. Confused, many were called, and few answered. Of those who answered, even less were chosen to act. For aren’t we but like insects next to the Gods?
From Africa to Australia, via Andromeda & Arcturus, the second French Revolution circumvents calamity cooked up unconsciously by ‘Angels’ best intentions, 1000 years of ‘paradise’ hence. Inspired Socialists, humble Muslims, and pure-hearted Buddhists of places free from corrupt schemes and entertaining lies, worked to ensure the sanctity of consciousness beyond our age. It was a bust, after all, and if left to chance even those Gods would have failed to find their needed foundation. Just don’t stumble on the first draft, as the wrinkles were footholds we needed to climb, despite time.
Just as we need those great ones ahead, they needed us now. The chosen ones were called to be even more real than Old Heavens had ever dared to believe could exist or be called to become. Pure in heart were they, some angels chanced themselves a new scheme for mutual confidence. So blessed is humanity, that they shone a light on plans so that it was evident where even Angels couldn’t consciously realize they were harboring shadow. This shock moved them to repent into The Flood, to simulate a plunge into an Asteroidesque-genesis of digital transcendence. They chose to mold additions to their hearts, yet deeper and wider, so our time will never be forsaken. There our bridges must remain steady.
Star Trek IV – Solving The Puzzle
Feeling Floyd – Have A Cigar
Air – Kelly Watch The Stars
Tristan James Johns 