The Days of Collar

That which may be... may already be... may be conquered

This is a ‘Page’ from my upcoming book, and it is unlike any previously-posted ‘Page.’ In fact, it’s unlike any thing I have posted here before.

Highly metaphorical, I have maintained my usual (at least as far as the ‘Pages’ are concerned) terse, baroque style, but the content is… well, different. As with the other ‘Pages,’ it is personal canon, and I stand by every word.

That is all. Unlike previous entries, no preparatory explanations or after-thoughts are warranted; it is as it is - interpret as you are inspired…

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PAGE OF MONITION

Know what you know, you of the Aware! Listen and act, for by your tenacity hope shall endure, thus be of great wisdom and courage, and be.

Indeed, as the curtain begins to close the Temporal cries out, warning of what is before you. Chaos is unleashed as the population loosens its already tenuous grip on reality, with explosions of violence and greed and lust destroying the remnants of civility. Reverences are assaulted, washed away in a deluge of blood and birth and blaze, and as the slobbering Parasites - they of degrees and dispatches and scopes and annals - deploy propaganda to gang-rape truth, the lunatic Feral rejoice.

As veracity conquers perception trust your senses and behold: The Days of Collar are nigh, when the reign of one scepter, one coin, and one indenture is bound. By trigger and vial, and chip and ledger and dial, the Tyran - they from the shadows, behind crown and cloth and cravat - saturate the Masses in fear and manipulation and yearning, creating covert anguish while draining young to old of emerald and crimson.

With compassion serpentine the Tyran and their Parasites serve feasts of plenty, marinated in the tasteless poison of Mammon… and the unaware consume, bloated yet never satisfied. That which is of joy and contentment and passion is fabricated and faux, hollowing Koa (soul) from within to without, so that even Nature itself no longer feels natural.

Up becomes down and right goes left, as depravity achieves normalcy and corruption is celebrated. Face the truth of the Tyran, for their ends are to reshape the beautiful into their own vile image, to destroy Tri-Con and Liberty and goodness… to destroy you.

Hark, my kindred of the will. Be of the percentage three - know, with the iron to act when siren splits the silent mind and sky. Look to the silver and the seed, the projectile and the pulse, the tempest and the text, for they of analog thought shall be prepared, and endure.

Gird your mind, tend your stocks, and act with boldness, rigidly resolute in truth. Surrender not to the Tyran; give no consideration to their guile or distractions, their temptations or threats, no matter how dire the circumstances. Hold dear to Awareness, remaining ardent even unto your death, and through your Faith - exalted by your kindred across time and space - you shall be justified in Memory. Eternal.

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I have created a new tab, making it easier to peruse all the ‘Pages’ I have posted thus far!

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Notes…
-- Unless otherwise credited, all images were created by the author, using Substack’s AI Image Generator.