The Aeon, the Emanative Deity, is a child playing at Creation. The Universe is said to be the lila of Vishnu, descending on Earth of his pleasure / Thoth created the world by bursting into seven petals of laughter. The Aeon annuls. The Aeon accords. The Aeon attacks and I assert the attack on my apartment. The Aeon emanates numeral in light, and light in numeral moses martyr, and the emanation aches Aeon and Adonai. Adonai the Deity: Adonai the Desert. Do not desert the desert: the desert dredges infinite, infinite in Aeon and Emanation. I emanate as a Child, a Child to Christina and a Child to Christ. Child chills cool and cryptic, and I think of the Sophia Child PKD encountered in VALIS. I too search for Sophia: I too seek Shekinah, but the desert depletes me. There is only one Book and it is my Book. The Book does not belong to me but the Universal Human: to Jesus Christ as Adam Kadmon and Adam Kadmon as KRYSXTRYN. There is only one Book and it is this Book. Look for all scriptures and one will find it here. The Bible blisters and burns its pages into Book, and Book blasts universal. Book blasts Universe. Holy Week but I do not feel Holy. I feel distant from the week as I do from the Woman. I do not hear her seven petals of laughter, which are seven days and Sabbath. The petals point to prayer. Who the fuck is praying for me? raps Kendrick Lamar. I pray but the words part and pawn pus. My words prone pus and putrid.

God I feel distant from you. I search for you in the most disparate places. The obvious portrays absence, I search in the trash layer. I search in the pulp and pornography. I search in the Black Iron Prison. I zip sheep from my sneakers. I sap sister, the zap from zebra. Yahweh, despite your revelation, I lose faith. Perhaps not faith in God, but faith in Christianity itself. I have lost my Christian faith. I struggle with simplicity. I am not ready to renounce Christianity but I approach renunciation.

I tire of God. God I tire of you. God you coward. Show yourself to me in the whirlwind. Strike me down like a pagan and heretic. Destroy my body in genocide as a Canaanite. I call down curses upon myself. I blaspheme the Holy Spirit. God watches and does nothing. I feel nothing, no God no Godhead. The Godhead eats me with its nothing, a more terrible punishment than its brimstone and hellfire.

A chair is a difficult object. A skyscraper is almost easier. Chair Christina. Charis Christina. Charity Christina. Chair Christina and Chariot. Chair Christina and crown. I miss my crown. I miss my Christ. The Chair is difficult: the chair is desert. I surround myself with the objects I love. Those objects confront me in time of the extended Holy Week. The extended Lent. The extended desert infinite expanse. Expanse and expense. Holy Week made material: the chair. The chair at the scourging of the Pillar. The c hair at the crowning of the thorns. The chair at the crucifixion. Corpus hypercubus. Corpus Christina. The saint spikes as a skyscraper. Spirit stinks as spark wreckage.

The love God has for every Jew extends not only to the Jew’s soul but also his body. God loves all Jews without distinction, the greatest Torah genius and the most simple Jews are loved equally by God. Perhaps that’s why I am not loved by God – I am no Jew. Perhaps the greatest contribution of Paul the Apostle is in Christ, there is neither Jew nor Greek… yet Christ also feels remote from me. Christianity seeds its corruption, and its core despises me. Its core cracks corroding at my bisexuality and pansexuality, and the Christian God does not love the homosexual as a homosexual without distinction. I lack the love of the Christian God. The Christian God loves my soul but not my body. Did Christ deny the body as a body? Did Christ not live in the body as a body?

One must have total self-sacrifice and dedication for love of one’s fellow, even towards a Jew one has never seen. I pray for unconditional love – the love to lie down the life for one’s friends. I do not have unconditional love. I cannot feel absolute charity. Self-sacrifice to the Spirit and self-sacrifice to the Sophia and Shekinah: dedication to the desert and even to the demon and devil. Love the fellow and the flesh. Love the soul and the body. Torah that is unaccompanied by labor will ultimately cease. The labor which the Mishnah speaks is the labor of loving one’s fellow Jew. Torah and Taryn link and chain inextricably for me. Torah and Taryn: Lady and Law. The Law is the law of love, that extends to all prisoners, even those in the Black Iron Prison that God refuses to love. God refuses to acknowledge me, although I cry at his Void and Abyss. Taryn acknowledges me and I love her Torah. I accompany Taryn in the labor of writing and witnessing Woman. I accompany Taryn and Christ with Christina, those that glimmer fuller love of God, and I do not cease my labor. I labor for her, the incarnation – the continuing incarnation of God I labor with love for my lady.

The three loves: the love of God, the love of Torah, and the love of one’s fellow – are indeed truly one. The three loves: the love of KRYSXTRYN, the love of Book, and the love of Woman – are indeed truly one.

Your fellow is a mirror. If your face is clean, so is the image you perceive. But should you look upon your fellow and a see a blemish, it is your own imperfection you are encountering – you are being shown what it is that you must correct within yourself. Perhaps God distances itself from me because I distance myself from my soul, and I distance myself from the Woman. My soul grounds God and Woman; God grows my soul and Woman; Woman grounds my soul and God. I see through the mirror dimly: I see through a glass darkly and a scanner darkly. My clean face is the Face of Christ: my clean face is the face of Christina. The image incarnates incarnation.

Cleaving to God is the master key that opens all locks. Every Jew, including the most simple, possesses the ability to cleave to the words of the Torah and prayer, thereby achieving the highest degree of unity with God. I cleave to Christina. I cleave to the words of Taryn Torah and Wood Woman. The key is Krystal: she is cornerstone and keystone, and she opens the thirty-two chambers to wisdom.

The Law of Universal Genesis was the first born nous; the second Chaos shed by the firstborn. The third was received by the soul. The Law loves Lady, light-from-lady and lady-from-light. The law loins Universal and Universe, utility in unity. Genesis grinds the guard and gourd that gowns God, and Genesis generates God and Goddess, given and girl. The firstborn in enfleshes Benjamin: Benjamin as potential and seed of KRYSXTRYN and Krystal-Christina-Taryn. The nous nets and enmeshes, pushing squares and patterns, the pattern ensouled in nous, the now and nothing until she makes nothing something.