2 Good 2 B True
This is why Aaron Garner hates adepts…
I read between the lines, I see the Truth in the Noise, I am a Cassandra. Some fools think this is a godcomplex and write me off as a pompous narcisist. I know my realm is 1, my space is my own, my life is mine, and my knowledge is always imPerfect, always just a piece of what could be/what is. All is Nothing, Truth is Noise, and my voice is nothing more than a part of the Cosmic Hum. I possess transcendent Freedom, but it requires that I believe in no god, that I believe in no Self. I am no Prophet, we are but two flecks of dust in a vast, agnostic Universe, spiraling towards chaos, desperate to make sense of INfinity. Truth is Emptiness, Emptiness is all that is True.
And, yet, I will apparently be the MouthPiece for CYGNUS. I do not profess to Know what they Believe, but I can speak for why we are willing to overcome our Differences and become the CYGNUS collective. First, I ask: how many people have Believed that The End is a fight between the “gods,” the Forces, the Essences, or dare I saw The Archetypes of Man? There are people among us dumb enough to think they can outdo Icarus and Phaeton, flying close to the Sun, and coming out unscathed. They are the Establishment— the manifestations of What Is, grasping at the Way Things Are and riding the wave of Reinforcing Norms. This is the dead land/cactus land. Here the stone images are raised… under the twinkle of a Fading Star. Humanity will never reach for the stars, conquer the Cosmos, or understand unless they Let Go of what “matters,” lest we remain nothing but matter, shape without form, shade without color, paralysed force and gesture without motion.
CYGNUS espouses violent, terrible, and unbounded Free Will. We Let Go— of personality, flesh, self-preservation, belief, any Dream. People, because of their own fear of Death, misrepresent the swans and say they sing for sorrow, in mourning for their own Death. They do not consider that no bird sings when it is hungry or cold or has any trouble. I do not believe they sing for Grief, but because they have Knowledge, they sing and rejoice on that day More than ever before. (Ignore bits about Apollo— that guy was a douche.)
Death is power and freedom. Physical death sucks— obvs. I mean Death, Letting Go, striking out and giving the world’s expectations for who you are the finger. Farewell, o Death, come close mine eyes! Few can do this though— more geese than Swans now live, more Fools than Wise. Holding on to False Life stifles the mind heart soul but also ruins it for everyone else. Like Cygnus, CYGNUS puts no trust in the Skies— WE have seen Jupiter hurl a flaming bolt, we have felt the loss of brothers and sisters and the Pain of Isolation. We will not inhabit the skies, we will keep to the marshes, we will not be Sanitary/Sanitized, we will be dirty and cold and hungry and Free.
Those who have crossed with Direct Eyes to death’s other kingdom. Given the supplication of a dead man’s hand, they think they are the heart/god/soul of all personkind. But, we, CYGNUS, are the heart for the heartless, the soul for the souless, the salvation for those fuckers who are too unlucky to live but too stubborn to die. They are not god, they are only Thoughts. They think they are better because WE are destructive. Our Power, Our Will, is believed to be Bad/Evil/Punishable/Crazy. But, Their World/this world, this is the way the world ends, not with a bang, not with a wimper, but with an empty, souless acceptance. We have no souls, we ain’t soldiers, but WE will take chaos over servitude, even if it is dangerous.
The paradox of CYGNUS is that we have all seen our deaths, we have seen The End, and now we’re using Curtain Call to save a world that would not save us, but saying that in the End we just want everyone to be Free to Choose, even though we have all been tied down and beaten and treated like shit. The only way we can Live is by Letting Go, the only way we will be Free is by Giving Up, and the only way we Succeed is by refusing to Fly. If Heav’n,and Earth, and sea, together burn, all must again in their chaos turn, but if we Join the Order, the ones who can bring about the End, then we are Lost. There are no chariots for the godless, no false idols for the hopeless, and nothing worth fighting for except the chance that The End will be better than Their End. They are the hollow men, the stuffed me, and we are the Lost Violent Souls who crossed to Death’s Other Kingdom and refuse to let go, coinless wretched and completely alone in our Quests, although we band together as CYGNUS we are all truely alone.
I realize this will not Please you— you will not appreciate the Noise. But, for fuck’s sake you bag of cocks, check your myopic expectations at the door, I’ve got two tits and a vagina and call myself a woman. [attached is a picture of what you assume is Trip-Fold/Void/Lloyd’s body, naked, from the shoulders down]
I pity you, Fool. If you would accept me, oh the places we would go! I could blow your mind in more ways than you could possibly more. For now though, I hear you have met much of CYGNUS. Ann is lovely, yes? Charming, as long as you don’t give a fuck about anything (I only met her once, showed up butt naked, and won some very pissed off respect) and don’t fall for those gorgeous eyes/tits/whatever. Cloak & Dagger are sad sad sad sad sad but significantly better company than the rest of us (or so I hear). Especially Cloak— poor kid just wants friends (no I don’t really get why he’s with us either but believe me when I say he’s the last person I’d want to be on the wrong side of). Dagger is endless pain, sorrow, and deliciously self-destructive.
Oh, and, right. If you decide to keep up this silence— even though I’ve shown you things I Know— then, I’m really fucking looking forward to watching you try to deal with the bodybag or, god save you souless bastards, Beth.
P.S. You have nice taste in mundane meatbags. ;)