snow and wind

with the snow and the wind out come the monsters of the night. the darkness that befalls me, us, transverse the universe - most of which is empty. there is not fate and if there is it doesn't think about us. And supposing fate does think of us it plays its games on the back of free will. Fate doesn't like you. if it did then it would be a different life. all the chips would be yours all the turns of chance would be exactly as you imagined. the perfections of your mind would be the perfections of the outward life. but guess what, congratulations, fate is luck. and if luck was fate then we rest on the spin of a roulette wheel. and we bet. we have to. our chips are our breaths, our actions. we play conservative when we need to, red black, don't bet after an early raise without good cards. and when the mood is right we break the rulse hoping that we make the appropriate decisions. we put our necks out there. and the damn guillotine drops its blade. do we die? yup that's not fates decision. it's physics. somehow the wheels of life are turning and you can't see the mechanisims. the machines that make the snow! the machines that make the wind! we do not see, we do not hear, we do not feel them! we only feel, see, hear, taste, smell, and perceive their ghosts! where are you souls of our captors? we are jailed by the invisible monsters but i know them, you know them. shut your eyes, shut your ears, refuse their gifts of sensation. turn off your feeling. center your mind as you refuse their gifts. once you have acheived this watch them - they will appear as little more than solid shadows but you will know them. angels? demons? gods? monsters? once you are there you have portalled to their plane, you can become as them for only moments. you can't stay. you are still material. they aren't anything of substance, well at least not in the way we understand substance. they are the artificers of our reality. they have creators and those creators and so forth. grab hold of the monsters and i won't tell you what happens. wrestle with an angel on the side of the river Jordan and your hip is touched. we have only our choices. the story i have told is not truth. their are no entities at the center of your perception, only the ones you allow to live there. make the journey to the center of the earth. the center of space, the center of life. the center of you.