Opposed – inborn, undeniably, or by sheer force of will – are people who live restlessly in the sunless shadow of Death, ever seeking to flee it: life on death’s terms… oscillating between war and love – majestic pillars of existentialism – and not between damned ideals of weakness, this peace and love, which is capitulating the will and strife of the hungry soul completely, forcing a surrender on weak, subjugating conditions… as they denounce the vital component of strife – turning their eyes elsewhere, to the right or the left, or below, into caverns of self-deceit and rationalization… wherever they have to, in order to flee its harrowing implication – they also unknowingly denounce – shun, even, in futile cacophonies of psychological defense mechanisms – the slightest opening or potentiality for any kind of transcendency or genuine happiness, self-deification or Gnostic forms of enlightenment in life… The light – that which they certainly curse as suffocating darkness – have ceased to glow, and left are remnants, a hollowness, like muscles with pearls snatched; bestial shells of food and sex: the beast among a million equals, if I ever described one…
I, of course, count myself in these ranks; I find myself flapping wings of hunger, ravenous bat's wings, and I sustain myself with the dirt and murk of humanity... I divide weakness and power between politbureaus of the mind in opposition – terror balance absolute... are words weapons? They are surely weapons, spears of sacrilege pointing upward in vain, and my breath, that of the lioness, abscond towards the Hliðskjálf of my visions and my dreams, high atop of the plateaus of Gods, the mountain Ebih, the mountain Sinai; Olympos; Ararat; Meru; the summit of claircognizance; now my soul has watchtowers, yet I weep tears of blood, saudade blood, over the base of the mountain... The mountainous pneuma, I have heard, been told, will be arousing; morphine-like almost; alluring, seductive; like children through the eyes of the prophet... But this is no serene, bountyful valley – where is the eden I have been promised? Where is the solace; the concession of peace, the burial grounds of ancient hatchets? I can not see the blooming flowers, the ever-bearing trees! The eternal light, the bliss, where is it?
Down here, at the mountain-base – which I have travelled almost twenty-three years to find – I can see a lot of anxiety, anguish, and self-contemptuous cogitation, I can see the cursed children of raped women playing violin on arms with razors... Storms of inspiration; I thrust my knife through my skin in flashes of genius and madness; I see all kinds of decadence, brutality, denial... Down here, judges beg forgiveness to the executed, and fathers sell albino daughters to horny witch-doctors (I have seen it firsthand), but I can not figure where to go, on what kind of clandestine untrodden trail I must set foot, in order to find Ebih, the mountain Ebih, which have been described as the abode of gods... where even the gutters are flowing with milk and honey... Countless many times I have heard humans from all castes of existence ascribe to the mountain, Great Ebih (as they venerate it, although it goes by manifold names), blissful and awe-inspiring qualities, and promises of happiness and solace are assured at the gates; People say that at the base of the mountain Ebih, even the nights are lighter than our days, and the sun always shine. The crops never die, and the water never poisons; Ebih – the original eden, the fortress of peace... I seek it and I have sought to seek it, I have read maps and I have stayed in the huts of the hermits; I have ventured to edges and coastlines, I have waded through swamps of doubt, I have kept all keys I have been able to find... I have followed instinct; I have followed reason, logic, and I have discarded most of it… my emotions are my signposts… I have followed elders, my mouth have been bent open and the soliloquies of lecturers ring still in my ear... I have bribed, I have tried to cheat, I have stabbed backs, I have walked over corpses of innocent humans, but I can not find it still! The Ebih of my dreams – symbol of perfect and unparadoxical harmony – a fraud? I feel fooled...
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