Transcend

How can we maintain philosophy sustaining disdain of transcendence?
And transcendence is the only true law,
unflawed,
the one resilient fact of accurate affluence.
Who can hope to attain a fullness fully known when restricted by purely first-person perception?
MY GOD, what a curse!
And temporal advice?
Counsel from the blind and deaf,
alas not dumb;
we are all so horrifically first-person!
Who here can tell me what the foul and degraded soil has not already?
Damned is the grain of sand not willing to comprise a new shore abroad.
And I weep for it, yes!
And I will not be calloused toward it, no!
For it knows not what it knows not.

Senility grows and abides in fragility
where a false king, flesh, has reigned rigidly
dispensing noxious whispers and insistent demands readily complied with,
so covertly conspicuous.
One is remiss to dismiss that which exceeds the tiny coffer “king” flesh,
flesh with conversation so reasonable,
maxim so reputable,
expression so congenial
(though only when quite convenient).
Yes, that which exceeds is not excessive nor meager, but it is the least of what’s needed and the pinnacle of it also.
The rest has never approached by heart’s quotas,
has never encroached one iota near enough to deep and indelible satisfaction.
And “near enough”
(if really a thing),
would insult me, offending the depths of me,
decrying that a decrepit thing I had become if swallowing “near enough.”
Does not “near enough” insult itself,
clearly exhibiting shameful concession to its own inadequacy and concurrently feigning acceptability?
So I’ll rebuff this “near enough”
and that up to snuff it could ever be
(a comical inkling).

And what dies within does not immediately die without.
I know for certain that absolute truth is the only hope for anybody.

And truth?
What do you think you know of it?
If you trust your own eye,
and likely you do,
it may yet lie and decry the truth itself.
Have you never trusted a false hope?
Have you never leaned heavily on a structure seeming to be without guile
to find its strength infantile?
Never reviled what soon survived trial as blessed salvation?
Refrain, I insist,
to resist never the frequently vain
intelligence amassed by that fallacious pane,
the eye of first-person perception.
Your false king will tell you, and he’ll tell you loud,
“I need!
I want!
You must give it to me!”
Does your eye not hear also and judge all it perceives accordingly?

Perhaps you will hear nothing of this.
Perhaps your true eye is smothered
or intoxicated
or mortally wounded,
and your false one will tell you what it’s always told you,
and you’ll buy it,
and you’ll pretend to believe steadfastly that which is not absolute and immortal.
Worse yet, you may grow to believe it actually.
Hm.
But there’s always a way out.
Ask for truth, and you’ll have it.
Believe what immediately seems reasonable,
and it will enslave you.
I weep for you.
I offer you escape.