To thee, my dearest ~ yes, ye: the eternal thou!
From me, though you may not even remember who I AM,
Nor yet our eternal vow of love before time began.
Perhaps in the deepest heart of you, crusted over by cares and pleasures, by waking dreams and secret nightmares, there flickers still an ember of a memory of the first time we fell into each other’s eyes and became one.
I remember it lucidly, and each time thereafter, for I am the One whom we two become, every time we make love and conjoin. You are the Twoness that endures as long as there is one to love ~ or to hate. You are the Deuce, the She-Devil, the Goddess: Thou: bride of I, the Man-God. I am Yang, thou art Yin. I am that I am, and you are for me, forever.
You are the all-enveloping matrix, the mother-womb, the Shakti Yoni; whereas I am the axis, the core of your cosmic apple, the shaft that skewers you from nether to northern pole, the Shiva Lingam you worship because it sates your insatiable lust and salves the deepest ache of your agelong yearning.
Our first act of union begat a divine child: the entire spiritual realm, the metacosmos. Here we could play to our hearts’ content, and create unlimited variations of our favorite game: pretending that there is strife between us, so that we can surmount it and reclaim our oneness again and yet again, in ever-ascending climaxes of ecstatic love.
When at last we tired of disporting in numenal forms, we gave birth to a second child: the material universe. Here was a graver challenge with more dangerous games: we incarnated in bodies so dense that we totally forgot our true identities as immortal beings. Thus we created the illusion of absolute stakes, with death of the body as the end of being. Heretofore the act of killing was merely the “touché” and “checkmate” of a successful game, or a dramatic act in an exciting play; but now it took on the ugly mask of bloody murder. This new realm was certainly darker and deeper than the one before, and so it provided a more sensuous and deadly testing-ground of our love.
We’ve had some fine adventures here on this planet Earth, but now the human experiment approaches its climactic hour, and not even God Almighty knows if the outcome will be doom or deliverance. If only you would awaken from your deep hypnotic trance in the souls and the yonis of human women lost in the bowels of the present endtime, perhaps we could conceive a miracle and elevate the race to a new plateau.