POETIC PROSE
The world is in turmoil and that is clear to see. The world is in turmoil, because man is in turmoil. Two sides are at war. I see it, I sense it, I feel it. This register terrifies us. Yet we recognise and understand it.
It is part of a process. And although it may not seem so, because of the greyness of evolution, the Self is manifesting there.
It manifests itself by advancing from the very agitation, towards Meaning and the Transcendent. Towards evolution it goes. Between light and darkness, groping but groping….
During the process that becomes evident to us, many things we will have to see and feel. Situations and experiences that will fill our hearts and souls with horror. It is necessary to prepare for the new times. Tie ourselves to the inner mast so that the coming storm does not toss us about.
The clamour of the darkened world can be felt, felt, heard. The fall of a suffering system provokes this darkness. The tails of that system that refuses to die, is what we feel. We must be attentive; those tails, those final kicks, they hit hard.
Much remains to be seen and we will certainly not like it. However, we must understand that it is part of what is dying. That which gives space to what is born, to what opens up the future again.
