least

when the holy ghost speaks out into the void a record in time is made. no one needs to hear the words spoken, no one needs to be there listening. the impression on time is made, and I've come to find these impressions of sound in the time-space continuum. I've found this one that speaks of a pre-adamite race, a race that learns of death. this is how the sound impression voices itself when I stand on the moon and look down at the earth during the time that the holy ghost spoke these words. 

see the seven men and seven women in their place. they have come to know the ways of the earth. we have slowly let on different parts of reality. today we will be introducing death. we will show them the permanence of death. 

when I heard these words I couldn't help but feel that the time when we knew death was one that I have come to miss. these people, if you could call them that, of which the holy ghost is speaking of will not see it this way. sadly they will come to see death as a mystery. yet here is the holy ghost introducing it to them. they will not know the hand that introduces it, and they will soon grow to forget that it was introduced. something that is introduced can be outroduced. the control that the holy ghost has to hold back death, that death is being held back at bay, is the same control that the holy ghost has introduced to me some time ago. and yet I often leer at the ability and wander in curiosities of oblivion. after having learned of my eternal nature oblivion seems something appealing. but I wonder at the possibilities. I am told that my consciousness can never die. I am told that my without a body the eye never closes the mind never stops, the bodilessness never sleeps. sometimes I wish to reduce myself to that level, to be nothing but an invisible eye without body parts or passions, just an open eye staring out in all directions, just a pure consciousness with no stream of thought, but just being a thought, just being an open light, a small piece of light, a small mirror that emanates light; and yet I don't know what the experience would be like. I have tried on multiple occasions to somehow get this consciousness to float out from the body, to get it to come out of its shell, to be pure and free from the tangents of flesh and spirit. I come to find that I am not able to leave the sticky sinews behind. They seem to be stuck and nothing short of death will completely separate me from my bodies. oh, how mortals think very little about what death is. they do not realize that the death which they witness is no death at all, but a mere scratch, a small marring of the bodiliness of life. when separated from physicality, there is something less. I want to see the least of everything. I want to become the least of these my brethren, for there surely is something great in the leastness of being.