Mechanical structures, molecular clock-work machines, dressed up automatons... human's are interesting devices. They exist in a complex universe of physics and mathematics, but see a world spliced with their emotions. In a world of atoms and space, they see a world of good and evil, thickly painted over it. Mystery covers up the fundamental physics of their own mechanical nature, and within these layers of mystery, they fabricate their souls.
Their bodies are composed of the same sub-atomic particles as the galaxy that birthed them. The human machine is subject to the same laws and forces of nature that rocks, rivers, planets, and stars are. With sufficient knowledge, the whole of mankind, like the celestial bodies that travel across the night sky, can be broken down, measured, calculated, and traced like the pre-determined paths of the stars and planets that travel across the black well of space.
Mystery is ethereal ignorance. Love and the essence of a soul are suspended within it, like stars hung in the cold and vacuous heavens. Without it, their ghostly nature collapses into rotating gears, like that of an old watch. The very essence of a soul you saw in every one’s eyes condenses and solidifies into a mask of tissue and expressions wired to complex circuitry that kicks back with tick-tocking knee-jerk emotions and logic.
Let’s re-imagine your mysterious cosmos, your mystic soul, and your cryptic inner-workings as a young, delicate, and untouched girl. She comfortably sits under a tree, next to a small pond. The clouds are out, the sunlight is soft, and the air is just slightly cold. She is very still and quiet, almost completely absorbed in a book that she's reading. There is a gentle breeze that doesn't even make a whisper. It subtly moves the grass and the few flowers that surround her, and only nudges a few strands of her hair, some of which run down the side of her face. Small goose bumps barely dot her smooth skin from the cool air that lightly drifts across it. A light dress covers her meek and fragile body from the shoulders down, just barely riding up passed the top of her knees, from the way she sits on the ground. What lies underneath… this is your mystery. This is your angel and stars. This is the fragile nature of your love and soul, wrapped up in a thin sheet of fabric. This is the secret you never wanted.
A whole world of civilized and spiritual animals is looking up at this image, at these cosmos, in both blissful ignorance and awe. And then, from the branches of the tree behind her, a monster with insatiable curiosity climbs down. Mathematics, neurology, physics, and other sciences reach out like The Devil's Hand, and runs up her legs, slowly lifting the dress further up as the animals beneath watch and cringe. Knowledge becomes pain and enlightenment becomes defilement. The process of exploration becomes invasive and destructive. Curiosity removes the veal and penetrates the sacred unknown. There is no turning back. The old world, the untouched, is forever gone. The mystery lies in pieces, with all of its exposed gears scattered across the ground. From mystery to mechanics, disturbing physics breeches the skin and exposes an entirely new world underneath, like the fleshy anatomy that lies beneath the delicate skin of a beautiful young girl.
Visions of Machinery
The sweet music, the gentle heartbeat, the magic behind their eyes, the mystic of their voice... begins to sink inside the crushing sounds of an ever growing thunder. The gnashing of giant metal teeth, cogs, and sprockets, the electric hum of burning circuitry and clicking of machinery begins to displace the ethereal haze and captivating flames. Evolution's ancient fingerprints, once hidden, begin to scatter from their head and into the light like an infestation of spiders. The limits of their internal programming begin to appear like landings of metal underneath their skin. Their fundamental mechanical nature beings to appear, as simple questions that animals cannot answer, get shredded to bits in their specialized processing, that was configured for colonizing and reproduction. Nature's strategically placed emotions of heartbreak and ruin, its persistent facial expressions and shameful weaknesses, appear like an omen, written on deathly sober blueprints so brightly burned into the dark sky, that you couldn't escape the truth even if you closed your eyes.
There are many destructive physical processes in nature. Fires, storms, bacteria, and serial killers are physical phenomena that occur in nature. Human beings, like weather, can be very unpredictable. But like the clock-work of a watch, there is an underlining mechanics to both of them. Choice is mechanical.
Good and evil are physical processes. Serial killers, rapists, tyrants, bullies, wife beaters, and child molesters, like fire or rain, are physical phenomena. They are streams of particles that follow the laws of physics. The course of a serial killer, like the trajectory of a ballistic missile, can be broken down, tracked, and solved. Evil, like the movement of the stars in the sky, can be broken down into mathematical equations. Every lie, rape, and murder, are the answers to these giant and complex equations that make up the reality of nature.
The War Frequency
When you think of the beauty of life and birth, do you think of light emerging from darkness, forests breathing, and mysteries speaking through the nights glittering? Do you imagine transcending thoughts and passions, drifting between the conscious entities, that are exploring the vast experiences of a Universe new to each and every one of you?
Do you see the good? Do you see the evil? Both life and death, light and darkness, are the indestructible gears of continual destruction. There is no final victory. There is no final hour. There is only a perpetual dance, that drifts in and out of the shadows, as faces grin and twist under the light that grows and fades around them. There is no epilogue to existence. There are no books that close. There will always be a tomorrow. There are no happy endings. There is no dawn for closure. There is only war, the endless dance of good and evil, an eternal shift between light emerging from hate and darkness enveloping love. Chaos and harmony, serenity and violence are but troughs and peaks of an infinite wave, the fluxuating frequency of destruction that runs across the aeons like a distant everlasting grimace.
Hell? Hell is a mind that is in constant and unrelenting conflict with itself. Hell is having dreams that are endlessly haunted by reality. It is your sense of self, your sense of soul, constantly being ripped apart by thoughts and memories. Hell... is having a heart and being reminded every moment that everything that once made it happy, never existed. Hell is wanting something you know you can never have and being completely consumed by that knowledge. Hell is a vast black ocean, a deep dark reality that surrounds your world, the small bubble of a lie, that all your nightmares run their fingers down. Hell is the truth.