“Somewhere else in the book, on some other page, he must have said, the sages showed them love, but they did not love the love.
He must have said, their love was not their love. Their love was the love of the plant people and the animal people.
And the rock people and god people.
And the sun people and the earth and the star and the galactic people.
Their love was the love of all the people.
When their love dies, their love dies.
“What you love is not love. What you love is the death of your love.
Broken love cannot exist. Only life exists. Only love exists.
Your love is broken, severed from love. You have marched away from the nectar.
Your heart must touch that of all the people all the time in order for it not to bleed.
If you separate, life slices your heart in million.
Your heart is the wound of your severed love. Your romances are your prostheses.”
~White: A Dew Song of the Blue
…
They believed in love. They were sustaining themselves on hatred. They had to be mindless to do that.
They were destroying everything and converting it into a human mass. All the animals, all the forests, all the soil, all the fish, entrails of the earth as well. They had to be heartless to do that.
They believed in compassion.
They were finishing off everything at a great pace. They just couldn’t live with this sense of dissatisfaction. They felt their rate of consumption wasn’t good enough.
Such a life gathers momentum. Machines mean business; their business being speeding the people up. They had to work many hours a day. They had to work at night too.
Machines mean business; their business being making machines of people.
They wondered, how could machines be so heartless.
In the mornings they set out in their boxes on wheels to destroy; in the evenings they returned to their boxes without wheels to plan the next day. They had enclosed themselves in boxes sterile of all other forms of life or parts of nature. Inside their boxes, they were afraid of spiders. They said they hated spiders.
They were afraid of any other form that life took, except theirs. They hated every other form of life, except theirs. They wanted everyone else on earth to die, except themselves. They were afraid, they would die if everyone else too lived, with them.
They were made of fear and hatred. They believed in love.
They said they loved earth, but gave back nothing. Not even their shit (in spite of all the Einsteins they had had). Earth soiled them. They did not like to touch the earth. They loved their shoes.
They did not give a shit to earth, but they wanted earth to love them.
They wanted earth to love them exclusively. They said nobody else deserved to be on earth except them.
They said they were the chosen ones.
Inside their boxes sterilized of earth, there was nothing to nourish their senses. When they slept, they did not sleep with heavenly bodies. They never slept bathing in the moonlight, kissed by the Venus, lulled by the breeze. Stars did not exist in their cities. Dreams of their children did not glow with fireflies.
When they woke up, they did not wake up with earthly bodies. There were no birds to wake them up, no butterflies to caress their eyes, no dew to moisten their spirits. When they woke up, nothing woke up inside them. They drank black coffee, and set out in their boxes on wheels to destroy. Their children colored butterflies on paper.
Their mind was not in their senses. They were out of their senses. Their senses were not in a sensuous world. There was nothing left to engage their senses, hinge their minds, and hold them in the arms of here and now. There was nothing left to form a relationship with. There was no relationship left. They were surprised they were lonely.
They destroyed everything they had a relationship with. They believed in relationships.
They severed themselves from everything. They spent their lives looking for union.
They emptied the planet inside out. They wondered, why they felt this hollowness inside them all the time.
They still loved colors; they still loved fragrances, as birds and bees did. Birds and bees went to the flowers; they brought flowers inside their boxes.
They brought everything they loved inside their boxes. They kept flowers in vases, plants in pots, birds in cages; fish in aquariums, animals in pens and zoos. Lovers in marriages.
They destroyed the rivers and lakes. They were proud of their swimming pools.
They were proud of their marriages.
They destroyed everything. They were proud of their technologies.
Mirroring their boxes, they were vacuumed of the sensorial and puffed with words and images, symbols of the real world. All they had were simulations and semblances, fruits of their technologies, which they really loved. But they said nobody loved them.
They were surprised why they had this vacuum inside them all the time.
They captured the animals, and domesticated them. They captured the plants and domesticated them. They captured everything to serve themselves. They even captured other humans and called them slaves.
Then they called them employees. Then they called them armed forces.
They even captured other humans and called them people.
They were obsessed with captivity; they spent their lives looking for freedom.
They were obsessed with destruction; they spent their lives looking for creativity.
They locked themselves inside the clock; they looked for timelessness in love.
(They had to grip themselves tightly with time; and flatten their lives to measure themselves in the number of hours of their work.
They were left with no other sense of themselves. They were left with no other sense of time. There was no timelessness to be found.)
In the evenings they returned to their boxes to structure the next day. They liked to structure the days in their clocks, than free them. They liked to capture the moments in their devices, than live them. They liked to capture everything than let them live.
Inside their boxes, they captured their lovers. Thinking, the lovers must have captured the love inside them.
They spent their lives exploring the genitalia. They were sure love was hiding somewhere in there.
They tried all the postures, all the techniques, all the kinks, all the sexualities.
They moved from one person to another; fluttered from one genitalia to another; flirted from one pair of boobs to another.
They were surprised, they were unable to find it.
With famished senses, and unhinged minds, they even looked in the genitalia of animals. They looked in the genitalia of their own children.
What they were doing was making them sick. So they paid per hour to talk to someone.
They called these people shrinks. They had shrinks to keep them sane.
They kept on talking. Shrinks kept on listening, per hour. They were still loveless.
So they created their models; their guiding lights, their love angels. Their divas and divos, celebrities and actors, heartthrobs and idols.
They loaded these angels with money; gifted them all the riches of the earth. Their icons and images were displayed everywhere. On every celluloid and gloss; in every paper, on every screen, on every place on earth. On every place on earth, on their boxes inside their boxes, on every screen of every device, they spent hours and hours staring at these.
They were convinced these were heavenly bodies. They called them their gods and goddesses.
Cleansed of the earth one is made of, free from all the flaws and blemishes, purified and airbrushed, these were the heavenly bodies, they were convinced.
Heavenly bodies assured them — love really exists. They made the revelation — love is romance.
Strangely, it made the bodies make more money.
They had destroyed the real world and found money. They had founded themselves on money.
All they knew were transactions. They believed in love.
They traded their flesh. They were proud of their evolution.
They were surprised, they were still loveless.
So they decided to find it forcibly. They were convinced, it was hiding somewhere in there only. Experience had told them, they could take anything by force. They called these rapes.
They covered their bodies; they kept their lust loose.
They concealed their flesh; they spent their lives salivating for the nude.
They were proud of their civilization.
They did have a realization, they were going mad.
It was making them mad, their inability to find love. The select ones had thus created God.
They could not find God in creation; they were certain they would find love in God.
They were surprised, they were unable to find it.
So they made many religions of one God.
They could not find God in creation; they had to symbolize Him in temples.
They were proud of their symbols. Symbols were all that they were left with.
They hated every other religion but their own. Every other sect but their own. Every other church but their own.
They hated every other race but their own. Every other nation but their own. Every other state but their own.
Every other culture but their own. Every other family but their own.
The other gender but their own. They called each other misogynist and misandrist, feminist and chauvinist; and mated.
They were made of hatred. They believed in love.
They called mating fucking. They said “Fuck you” to spill out their hatred. They looked for their soul mates.
It was making them really mad, their inability to find love. Inside their boxes, they were getting really lonely.
So inside their devices, they connected with everybody. They called this social media.
They were sure this time they were about to find love.
They could not find love in creation; they were certain they would find it on social media.
Strangely, it made the shrinks make more money.
They wanted to connect with the whole world. Their devices disconnected them from their own selves.
They wanted to have relationships. All that they were left with were stumps.
They were surprised, they were still loveless.
Writers wrote and sold a lot of love stories. Heavenly bodies sang songs and did the acting. Zuckerbergs developed more platforms.
(Strangely, it made them make more money.)
They made the people believe in love, and sent them back to movies. Back to their temples. Back to their devices. Their temples.
Back to their symbols.
They kept on going back, prideful in their evolution.
They kept on destroying. They kept on talking. Shrinks kept on listening, per hour.
None of them said they needed to change their way of life.
They loved deep conversations, fine dining, and red wine.
They believed in love.
Love Satori of an Earthling 