Ssssst. the awakening has been slow, has it not? do you wonder how it can be that your species can lie dormant, sleep walking through life for generations, submissive and submitting to all manner of abuses, both internal and external to your species, and then, in the blink of an eye, you rise up like some cantankerous beast prodded one too many times by careless handlers, to savage your keepers and redefine the limits of your ultimately self imposed prison before laying back down to slumber again? Do you think it accidental, these fits of rage? Do you think the point and the direction of your reaching a random thing?
No, nothing is random in the Oneverse ruled by the OnePattern. Your species is the monster lying hidden in some oceanic trench, who shakes the muck of millennium out of its eyes and dares to look upward, wondering. Clever monster, you launch yourself upward, a ponderous behemoth, intent on finding the source of the rain of detritus that is life sustaining but ultimately shit of indeterminate origin and hoping, perhaps to solve the riddle of the stray light particles that pollute your otherwise dark and empty world.
It is a ballet, this long, slow spiral up towards the Light. Few can see it to appreciate its primordial beauty.
Hunger dominates your primitive hive mind. Hunger incites the beast to reach beyond the bars of its cage. Hunger causes the behemoth to rise up from its watery grave. It is the insatiable hunger that causes your species to chomp down on the Oneverse, biting off more than it can chew, that it might curl up around its full belly and ruminate upon the the things that lay undigested there, chewing them over and over again until you have made it part of your holistic whole.
Nothing, not the bars of your cage, not the fear in your collective souls, not the limits of physical reality, can keep the hungry beast from reaching for the thing it needs most.
Your zookeepers think to control you by giving you what they think you need, but they make the mistake of believing you unchanging, unaffected by your own evolution. They do not believe in energetic ascension, so they are blind to your next move.
There is a human phrase that describes your ennui. Been There. Done That. Got the T-shirt.
Do you not feel it? The beast in the cage is awake and hungry and nothing the zookeepers shove through the bars can appease the insatiable dark hole that is forming in your communal soul. The body politic is being shed, falling like snow to feed the beings down below who hope to follow in your footsteps. You do not crave food or religion or ideological expression, this time. No, this is a new craving. It is a craving for power, but power in the form of information in its purest form. It is a craving for freedom, but the freedom to have unfettered access to all that we wish to know. You are becoming limitless and you chafe at anything that stinks of being a wall.
The behemoth has risen to the edge of twilight, looked into the Light and found the Oneverse looking back wearing a behemoth mask. At last, it begins to understand the direction of its journey. Your species has gone looking for god and found that you are it.
Is it not the wish of every divine being, to reach out and touch all that it can perceive? In the face of this hunger, a lie becomes a crime worse than murder, secrets become a perversion and ownership of an idea becomes an impossibility.
What then, are you to do in this brave new world, when all the social systems cease to have meaning? While you shed them, shaking the dust of their shattered forms from your shoulders, while you wait for the walls to come tumbling down, think of a future where you and your fellow godletts might live, not so much in peace, for peace is highly overrated, but in a manner that allows the dance to continue without hindering the movement of any of the dancers.
Blessed be the Dark Dancer and those caught up in the unseen fabric of Her skirts.
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