when you're a star, they let you do it. — d.j. trump



— revelation —

15:7 and one of the four beasts gave unto the seven angels seven golden vials, full of the wrath of god: 16:17 and the seventh angel poured out his vial, 18 and there was a great earthquake, such as was not since men were upon the earth: so mighty an earthquake, and so great. 5 and i heard the angel say: thou art righteous, o lord, 6 for they have shed the blood of saints and prophets, and thou hast given them blood to drink, for they are worthy.

Thursday, April 5, 2012

On Transfigured States Of Eros


The island of refuge, standing midway between true love and engodment.

A sublime and partly-dispassioned admixture of eros and kenosis, as deep, and strong, and powerful as parental love, but with the romantic component still intact.

Even as the light of all the stars of the night-sky put together cannot match the brightness of the moon, so can true love ( for a woman ) not be compared to this mystical state.

But, just as the mid-day Sun shining in all its splendor on the sky completely obliterates the radiance of the moon and all night-stars, making them wholly invisible to the naked eye, so does the beauty of engodment, with its two-edged sword of agape and dispassion, render even this transcendent state obsolete.

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