Confessions from the Killer Mime Cult

I will now, every week, be publishing extracts from the Great Work, and sometimes, offering explanations. Remember, what I am writing is metaphor, a way to relate to your world.

The Great Work, Outer Discipline

1

Yo kamuno enla tod aloma,
kuzut senu e kedil.
Cak yo zad sensoda.
Nada, wobi, kukonda elur.
Pekols madamina, lub yem hezurs
korlemeos supre jez kukonds.
Oskenijigs yom talminos, xereo di siku
solus lah neni gwenola begiratkle
e olos l'ahalos itxikle.
Yo nodamo d'ahot. Tobera.
Olo opalato insitod bret.

'Tu indkaldo od ax
cakkle di prorok azert da,
e adins yapila.
Lisaparumotga mi tu ikuso e nodamo di go-
parolos krevosna od ras tum
e klubosna di nohas tum.'

Ahot otro-

'Izen tum reprev cako
zardam e usd ga.
Tu cako d'ata naroda,
dartocaka, e vidola.
Narod da dado di saoval
od malumezo a neb,
od kaos a kaski
od rausimun a liberan.
Olos indulosna kuzut sterens
e gavosna di harjok a rando toda.

I step into the dream-time,
between waking and sleep.
Before me a limitless field.
Bright, white, drifting snow.
Stalks of corn, or maybe bones
poke up through the drifts.
My eyes throb, burnt by ice
but there's no where else to look
and they will not close.
I hear a voice. Distant.
Dangling in the wind.

'You have been called out of many
to be a prophet for this,
and subsequent ages.
Write down what you see and hear here-
the words will bleed from your fingers
and haunt your nights.'

Another Voice-

'Your name is an abomination
both a blessing and a curse.
You are the father of a nation,
a civilization, and a faith.
This nation leads the world
from darkness into light,
from chaos into order
from slavery into freedom.
They will sail between the stars
and take this message to the edge of time.'

The voices dissipate
left alone, I begin to write.

Labels: great work