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Response To That Final Question:

Ignorance is the Bane of Man.
At a distance removed,
Dimly remembered, and
Still not seen distinct,
But yet somehow felt;
What we do sense
Is not reality; is not the Real Thing.
This World is hologram.
Then; for lucid sleep;
For it's just a dream
Within another dream
And we are not awake.

Seven Stars' Song of Revelation

Ignorance is a jail where no escape
Is possible but through knowledge.
Don't fear nor spurn. Dare to learn:

Assent to and accept this world as it is
Before attempting ascent to any world
Aspired to or wished for. Life's glorious!

That That Is can be known but by few.
Not space, not time, not gravity exists;
But as Extension from Field of Thought.

Be subject to neither church nor crown.

Dread naught. Disdain none: Not One!
Absent That That Is, there's Nothing.

That That Is, IS. That That's Not, IS, too.
That That's Not makes That That Is: IS.
That That Is makes That That's Not BE.

By rowing to That That Is, I become "I."
Wind + Water = Wave. As THOUGHT is
The Heart and The Nave of The Wheel.

Worlds are created from Thought alone.
That which we will do is because of that
What we are. We'll become who we are.

Charity, courtesy, civility, compassion,
Are cardinal spokes making civilization;
Chivalry forms center, hub's circle core.

IS is! Be not the slave of some other's I.
This, Creed of our Seven Stars Society;
This, The Teaching of the Seven Stars:

No man can be happy if he should choose
To be exile from his own nature and soul.

Precognitive Prescient Prophetic Poetry by WILLIAM O'CONNOR

Saturday, November 28, 2015

Blue sun Series: Consilience: Verse 13

The Felt that is needed before the Logic can be revealed, can be explained, can be known; is the Spark. Emotion precedes Reason. Touch is the better cognition. We are our feelings; our thoughts come later.

Wednesday, November 25, 2015

Blue Sun Series: Consilience: Verse 12

Warming fusion of a false Spring, buds prick on twigs of trees in desire to leaf while awaiting a call from destiny to flower but it's November still as many months await yet hope of Shape fore Number, awakes.

Monday, November 16, 2015

Blue Sun Series: Consilience: Verse 11

Long highways, a helmet for my pillow and a poncho for my bed and stars are over head; just my rifle to hug and my dreams the only help to keep me warm, I'll be humping out tomorrow way before the dawn.

Monday, November 2, 2015

Blue Sun Series: Consilience: Verse 10

An entropy of color follows upon our deaths, a silent and still cooling down into a nothingness radiating in memory, spreading out, spearing out, in puddles of energy; then, a slow turning acceptance of black. 


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