There is no planet Earth.
This sphere is ambiguity, of extremes, of opposition and of harmony, this globular nebulous mass of intelligences and awarenesses, this great circle of cycles, ring of repetition, spinning ball of revolution, is Earth, and Earth is a collective dream.
And we all live on our own planets. Planets separated by deep chasms, bottomless gorges, unfathomable rifts, eternal oceans, light years of darkness, incessant abysses of stars.
But we share this collective dream. We are terraformed. We are a confederation of planets. We are a solar system deluded into believing that we are one world, and One, and One and One. In all our differences, even our spaces apart, we believe we are one, when we are all lonely Ones existing in a conglomeration of amalgamated dreams. Of believed reality, that contradicts actuality.
you know what. I’ve matured in the past minute. I realize it now. I admire those insane people who believe that their word is final, that they are somehow close in greatness to God, that they know the True Truth, that they are what humanity needs to become perfect. I admire their gall. Their bravery. Their cantankerous and offensive gasconades, teetering on the edges of satyrical ridiculousness. These are the people that tear necessary rifts between the Deluded Sheep. Separate the sick from the vivacious. The sane from the insane.
Little by little they draw necessary lines between a mass nebula of disharmonious lab rats led to believe that Reality is a shared experience, rather than it being an individual interpretation of Actuality. Let them keep springing up all over the world. They are doing what they were put here for.
Whoever said division was wrong? There is a growing illusion, a mirage, that says that all humans are the same and can live in harmony and peace, as long as we all wake up realize that we are all kin. The Arch Reality, is that we are all aliens from various planets all standing on one ever-morphing soil separated by arcane seas and imaginary borderlines created by the artists of deception.
Now, I hope, whoever read this, could recognize the blatant vomitorium of cynicism that was this written-out cerebral diarrhea.
But I am not afraid to rise up and reveal my true identity. I am an alien, of mind, of way and of genome. I have no match on this “planet” and neither do you. It is about time we build up our walls, and pretend that many things that we see, hear, touch, smell, taste and experience don’t exist.