The Empty Place - II

"You know what your folly is?", I asked the intruder on the mountain.

"I can conceive of the idea of the Box of No and the warped reality of what might be in it, yet reject it because its false unreal promise stands in contrast with the Word of my Father.

I can conceive of what is inside the Box and disbelieve it.

You, on the other hand, not only conceived of the idea of the Box, but you were taken in by it because you believed it and disbelieved the words of the One Who made you and Who endowed you with many gifts.

You even went so far that you were willing to risk your Soul in the danger zone.

Yet you knew in your heart that our Father cannot deviate from the Truth because He IS Truth, and yet, you lacked the strength to hold fast to that knowing.

How could you be so deceived?

It is not I who is the prisoner, but it is YOU.

Because, the moment you opened the Box to look inside it was the moment the Box swallowed your Soul and took complete possession of you.

YOU are the one living inside the Box and the Box lives in and through you as well as all those who fall for your deceptive words.

Because you live inside this bottomless pit of the Box, you reason according to the distortion of the Box."

The icy phony smile on his face now had turned into an ominous angry smirk.

"Then live as an obedient slave of ignorance on this wretched mountain for all eternity, never writing an original tune, but always the ones prescribed by the Despot up there!", he shouted in anger as he pointed at our Father's mansion.

His fiery eyes were the eyes of the Box of No looking at me through the lens of the one who used to be my brother.

He used to be as close to my Soul as my own heart, but now, the only tunes he could sing were the ones prescribed by the Box, and in his blindness he could not see his imprisonment but rather projected his own plight on all those who were still free.

He had become 'anti', 'the Adversary'.

Only this 'anti' was based on a paradigm which could never exist, a fantasy where belief in a Lie passes for Truth.

Talking with the embodiment of the Box was like listening to a rehearsed fantasy, one which may be entertaining as long as it is not real and it does not affect you.

The problem was that my brother was no more, and the Box had transformed him into a gateway for the Box into the world of the mountain, the real world.

The Box was the great void seeking to turn itself into substance by devouring it, an avatar of non-existence creating an appearance of existence for itself by means of appropriating that which exists, and turning it into a broadcast of its message.

In this case it had appropriated my brother through his own choice, and it saddened me since the form of my brother was a living reminder of the one who lived by my side yet whose Spirit had been turned into a medium for the impossible dream world of the Box of No.

I noticed how the paradigm of this Box took that which existed, and simply reversed it, thus creating contrasting 'anti'-images. 

The Box introduced the notion of Death and turned 'Life' into 'Death' while promoting 'Death' as 'Life', 'live' becoming 'evil' and 'evil' becoming 'live'.

I did not understand why someone of his intelligence and understanding could be so deceived that he was oblivious to the folly and deception of the Box of No.

Clearly if something contradicts that which you know to be true, then the contradiction is something you should never seriously contemplate and consider it to be some sort of an alternative truth.

It is so obvious that Death or non-existence can never exist and that there is no end to the Spirit.

He knew that very well, and I cannot understand how he could be so immersed in the deception that he came to accept the fantasy concept of No.

Instead, in true reactionary fashion worthy of a knight of No he told me that I was the one who did not see, because I was still too much a slave of our Father's paradigm of reality, and lacked the creativity and intellectual stamina to step outside the box of my mental, intellectual and spiritual confinement, as he called it.

But I DID see, and I saw how he had turned into a slave of the deception of the Box, surrendering himself to a mode of reasoning inside that Box.

His faith in the fantasy of the false paradigm blinded him in the Spirit, unable to see the folly of trying to breathe Life into nihilism.

The moment he stepped into the world of the negative, he began to think and reason as a negative.

The view of the Box became his own view, accepting it as Truth just as he rejected Truth as false, a Lie invented by our Father to keep us locked into the chains of slavery to our Father's will and concept of reality.

It was as if he had been absorbed by the Box and viewed the world in negatives which depict Light as Darkness.

The Box with its impossible dualistic paradigm had become his cage, yet he was unaware of his captivity.

Instead, he considered his captivity to be his liberty, and he the walls of the Box he believed to be his unlimited freedom.

He did not acknowledge how the Box distorted his view and warped his thoughts in the image of the Box, no, he simply could not see, because he had merged with the Box and became the Box.

Or rather, the Box became him and expressed its contents through him.

He could not see how the Box was like a negative filter applied to everything he knew, seeking to turn the entire Creation into a negative of the film of reality.

On this negative of the film, Light is turned into Darkness and Good into Evil, just as Darkness becomes Light and Evil Good.

He now believed in the Lie and eloquently sought to persuade others to share in his delusion, and that is how he became the father of the Lie.

The paradigm of 'NO' was a fantasy spinning a fantasy world out of that which exists, that which is real, and as a true disciple of the Box of No the Adversary now believed he was able to transform this fantasy into a reality, and re-create that which our Father built.

Unaware of his folly he no longer was able to distinguish between fact and fiction, incapable of detecting the line between fantasy and reality, fact and fiction.

How he had changed!

I used to love his music and marveled at his mastery of different instruments.

With such an abundance of gifts it was obvious to me why he carried the nickname of being the court composer.

Yet as he changed, his music changed with him, and I came to loathe the tunes carrying the lying Spirit of insane rebellion.

Their sound felt like a swamp, draining me of energy where before they used to fill me with energy.

He became the black stain on the canvas of the mountain, and he felt it was his mission to transform the canvas of the entire mountain into one large black stain, a monument to the glory of the Box.

He desired to re-create all in his own image, or rather, the image of the Box.

All of us who did not join his insane cause suffered from his presence on the mountain, until the moment arrived our Father decided to step in and protect us and His beautiful mountain.

The Adversary was banned from his premises and cast into the region of the valley below where he could roam freely.

"Don't think I will be Your prodigal son returning to You one day to beg for a position among Your slave idiots!

I will return alright, but when I do I will bring my armies with me and take this mountain by force!" he shouted angrily at our Father as he was thrown off the mountain into the valley.

"I will take back what rightfully is mine but which you stole from me just to give it to your obedient little slaves as their reward for bowing down and not utter so much as one single word which goes against Your despotic will.

Take a good look at Your palace and Your precious mountain, because the day is coming when ALL of this will be mine!"

It was as if the echo of his words linger in my mind to this very day.

His vacant place on the mountain only brings back those memories of someone who was given so much, yet who ultimately showed so little gratitude for that which was given to him.

Just as the Box had removed his substance from his form and filled it with the voice and presence of the Box Spirit, his tunes had become hollow celebrations of his own greatness, as if his talents originated with him!

Every remnant of energy, talent and Life-force within him had been transformed by the Box of No in the image of the Box.

The Box had taken over his entire being, turning a brother into a stranger, a living and breathing manifestation of the Box.

This Box was the ultimate black hole of Creation, since it absorbed everything it encountered and made it an integral part of its deep black void.

By now it had absorbed almost the entire valley below, and I knew that its ultimate goal was to absorb the mountain as well so everything would be turned into an extension of the hollow robotic Darkness emanating from this Box.

Letting my eyes dwell past the empty place to the valley below I noticed great thick black clouds hovering over the valley swirling upwards towards the mountain slope, and I knew that the time was near that my former brother would indeed seek to return to this mountain and claim it as his possession.

The valley is his kingdom now, but it does not satisfy him.

No, his heart is set on the mountain, and I knew that from the day he left he would return someday to take by force what never was his to begin with

Whenever I am sent on a mission in the valley, I can hear the sound of his many tunes and the inane dumb lyrics celebrating his folly, but what's more, I sense the presence of that same dreadful Spirit behind the sound of this Shadow music.

His omnipresent noise in the valley mesmerizes the valley-dwellers, drugging their minds with the relentless omnipresent sound of the tunes lulling them to sleep, so that in their stupefied state they do not understand the extent to which they are exploited and deceived.

As long as they remain asleep they do not have to face up to the reality of the horror they are submitted to.

The sleep renders them unconscious and oblivious to their captivity and exploitation.

They are addicted to the sick fix of his mocking tunes and his images, because they cannot tolerate the sobering silence and stillness of the presence of the mountain.

The silence makes them aware of the very thing they seek to blot out of their consciousness, so the silence becomes a threat, a vexation to their drained Souls.

They crave that distraction and refer to their addiction as their love.

Their captivity they refer to as their liberty, and they see the dire straits of their exploitation as opportunity knocking on the door of the drive of their implanted artificially cultivated ambition.

Words do not exist capable of describing my utter amazement and shock over the extent of their slavery to the Box and how they hypnotically accepted the lies suggested by the many voices of the Box.

How could anyone having lived on the mountain not be able to detect the Dark lies spreading their net over their existence and reducing them to robotic slaves serving the interest of the Dark String Pullers, how could they not see the chains around their Soul pulling them forward?

No, whenever their strings were pulled, they gleefully obeyed, whenever the chains were yanked, they slavishly followed.

Perhaps they did not come from the mountain, perhaps they could not remember the mountain and its beauty.

Perhaps it was amnesia which prevented them from understanding and being aware of the ugly Truth of their plight.

If so, that amnesia could be seen a blessing on one hand since it anaesthetizes them from the pain of a broken and reversed existence in the valley, yet on the other hand it also is a curse, because it keeps them locked into the stronghold of Darkness.

It was their blindness and their willingness to stand in agreement with the Box which rendered them as slaves to the one who DID come from the mountain yet chose to unite with the Box of No.

There in the valley he rules as a king.

He succeeded in painting the lives of the valley-dwellers in negatives to that they lived their lives in a reversed mode.

Whenever I am sent on a mission in that veiled nether region I am unable to see him, but I can sense his presence everywhere.

He chooses and appoints his court musicians, his composers, his movie makers, his ministers, his rulers and his servants willing and eager to do his bidding, the bidding of the Box of No in the valley.

And of course only the ones who comply with his demands and confess their faith in his deception reap the reward of being chosen and appointed as worthy servants of the Box.

They undergo their initiation rites like true obedient slaves, knowing that by passing the rite the doors to the empire of the Box will swing wide open and the world below will be at their feet.

They pay with their Souls just to reap a fleeting illusion of grandeur in the nether region.

There's no hope whatsoever for someone like myself to be able to live in that valley for a long time, since the few who do not share in the delusion of the Box of No can see the deceiver for what he is, and they are shunned, ostracized, relegated to the sidelines, and if we dare to make too much noise he even comes after us to destroy us and rid us from his empire in the Shadows of the valley.

We are the ones who fail the initiation rites, and how we are punished by the initiated!

The valley has become the stage where the play of the Box of No is performed, a dream reality  which thrives on exploitation, bloodshed, theft and deceit, a reality which requires sacrifice of innocent Souls to harvest their energy as fuel for the great doomsday machine of the Box.

How I hate being there!

I have to suffer the mockery and humiliation of the Shadow servants, I have to endure their indulgence in the false hypnotic twisted tunes of the Adversary, I have to walk under the oppressive Darkness of the many clouds.

How could the one who became the Satan to the mountain-dwellers not be aware of the stark contrast between his world, and the world where he used to dwell?

Nothing of him remained on the mountain after he was banned, except for this empty spot where he once stood, smiling in his splendor, rejoicing in his music.

And I rejoiced in his music with him, thanking our Father for the great gifts He bestowed on us in His goodness and kindness of heart.

He used to be my brother.

But then he changed, and I did not.

I felt great sadness over what he had become, because now the Box was in control, and he could not help but act out whatever the Box dictated.

The Box took his form, his voice and his gifts.

And his gifts were turned into the curse poisoning the world below and beyond, seeking to transform all it encountered into the image of the hollow Shadow world of the Box of No.