I am Sod

Poesis And Sodean Eschatology


There is a very rare word in the English language, derived from Ancient Greek, and indeed a word which I have found to be beautifully fitting when discussing Sodean ontology, and in particular Sodean eschatology — the destination of both the Sod and the entire body of spirit which makes up the Sod. This word is “Poesis” and I would define it personally (a liberty which I am taking due to its extremely rare occurrence in the leviathan English corpus) as being the sublime and indeed divine poetry of some spiritualized material — whether it be humans or humanity itself — or indeed even the Angels and gods as they shatter from the Monad only to find themselves gradually becoming reconciled — though always in constant dialectic opposition to this reconciliatory force.

Poesis is the word which describes the ideal Sodean life, that is one which is poetry in and of itself without even the need for spoken or written word to describe the sublimity of such a life. Recently, I described the Sodean imperative as one which seeks to act as a sort of dive bomber, ascending deep into the heavens — In Caelo — only to drop from this sort of euphoric bliss, falling into a deep dive — an expression of pure motion and violence, exiting the Kingdom of Heaven (heaven on earth) and plunging through the clouds — Ex Caelo — bursting through the air, screaming and singing hymns as if one is an Angel, while never claiming oneself to be as such. Then, finally, at the Sod’s greatest point of bravery in this epoch of their life, they enter the enemy territory of Evil and unleash a hell of their own onto this purely psychic force. Quash evil. Quash the devil, for he is a fool and a coward — he sustains himself by fear alone and only good men and virtuous women are capable of stifling him, violently breaking his will and perhaps even redeeming him — all without a single drop of innocent blood spilt.

Already emerging out of this imperative is a poetic motion, one which describes the ideal life. A life which does not shy away from opulence nor horror, indeed it is the only brave life one can live. This is the personal Poesis of the Sod, because in their lifetime they will see this repeated action play out in such a manner that each period of this “dive bombing” will necessarily place the Sod higher and higher above the clouds, slowly disappearing entirely from the sight of the Devil’s demolished artillery.

What is his artillery? What are his arms? Who are his wicked soldiers? It is poverty, greed, and brooding, respectively. Remember the Book of Proverbs — seek not opulence for the sake of opulence. Seek not poverty for the sake of poverty. Seek one for the sake of the other, and by this I mean that the only way to propagate the ministry of heaven is to spread the wealth and glory of God both material and immaterial among men who love and do not hate and women who take cares and do not live aimlessly or towards some excessively powerful role. Sophia has spoken, no Prince shall be glorious who merely drinks strong wine and seeks gold above God.

And where is God on Earth? Charity unto good human souls. This is the purest expression of loving wisdom. Collectivize both one’s love for God and one’s ministry and then something truly beautiful begins to emerge. Where previously I spoke of the personal Poesis, when love is spread amongst brothers and sisters, a collective Poesis emerges. This is one which is sure to be more stable, far less hazardous, and indeed the desolation of a solitary Sod’s journey ends when by grace they find their sodalitas.

And what of the Poesis of all mankind? of Good and Evil? What of these haughty little whispers of doubt in our mind when we contemplate our own deaths?

There is a story to all creation, at least one that a westerner such as I can clearly trace back to the moment of creation itself. It follows a chosen but fallen people by their own accord (Adam), who in their time were by providence to become the prerequisite conditions for Christ’s crucifixion — something which could not happen without a people chosen by God. An act which if absent from our history, would make’s Christ’s legitimacy as the Son of God truly dubious. Here you see a grander poesis — the story of Humanity’s salvation slowly emerging out of very dark clouds, a clear and deliberate plan which was prophesied many times over by those chosen people. I will state now towards the great chagrin of the brooders that these people’s work is not yet finished, and they are certainly not some vestigial undergrowth or tumor. God does not make such mistakes in cases of such extreme grace and providence. God has interceded to such a great degree in Christ’s time that the idea that the remaining Jews are a vestigial mistake is absurd. It is the Father who is guilty for his Son’s death — this is by design, not by some evil or external force.

I will expound on this great history in a later article I hope to publish very soon. But my goal with publishing this particular article is specifically implore you to organize your life around Poesis. You have one life to live, and if it is not poetic than you are afoul and running aground on the desert islands of absentminded striverism. Should you find success and riches, save your friends from destruction — but you are also to be a father. Do not allow leeches into your home; do not allow your success to become the success of others. Hold a steady hand for your loved ones. Love will show you the truth. Who loves you? Who do you love? Who among you truly loves Divinity and the Sublime? These are the questions you should ask yourself as you project your life through Poesis.

If you ever begin to forget that God loves you, let yourself fall to the seduction of Nature, the sunrise, the sunset, let Sophia embrace you once more, and bring you home. The sod is weak because the sod is human; the sod is fallen. You must accept this if you wish to truly allow God into your life, because in the chaos of capitalism, your faith will be constantly tested and brought to lows which are unspeakable. For this reason always remember the stars. Remember the monoliths mankind has constructed out of nothing. Only by God’s grace and our holy souls can such animals accomplish such grand things. There is light in the darkness everywhere, and shade falls upon the ground day by day.

Follow Poesis. Ride the highs as high as they can go, utilize them to stabilize your sodalitas. When you fall, do not resist. You are already fallen, and the only way to rise above this bestial desire to resist fear. You can only grow closer to God by descending into the depths of your own mind’s perils. Horror can sometimes be the only available sublimity when life is horrifying. Fear only God.

Because, God’s clouds, God’s sacred and secret vault of Heaven is omnipresent. The angels will sing of you when you die should you become the essence of benevolent Poesis. Do you not want this glory? It is sitting right in front of you. Take it as an unnatural pacifistic sword, you will find it’s associated crown when it is time for your ascension to the Kingdom. But do not give up on Poesis until all that you love is raised to the most grand and holy heights that your sodalitas can manage. Do this unto your timely and elderly death, and surely salvation beyond salvation awaits, having raised a whole loving family beyond family above the milieu of consumerist despair and wickedness.

Obsecro tibi ut Deus hanc veniam det tibi,

Carpe Poesitem,


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