Chapter 13: Dense Prose For Custom Readers

On the whole, thought and action have a lot to do with it.
A myriad of systems interlocked in one all-inclusive organismachine-driven system. Pulleys and levers, meters and knobs, dials and buttons, lasers and holograms, plants and animals. Explosions, implosions, stasis. A static liver. Time without duration, and space without form.
Within and beyond the eternal system, the divine light of all minds, we see a window. The window allows visual and sensory access to all of creation, paradoxically this awareness is not seperate from the whole system itself. This loophole allows the One to believe it is Two, and is the mother of all duality.
Having never known the difference between One and Two, the Whole Being has only its own illusion to believe in. This illusion is human perception, and it is all we can ever know. The funny thing is, this perception is not indicated as being anything in particular. It is a given circumstance.
This Primary Illusion of Perception creates the condition whereby the Supreme Being may trick itself into believing that it is a separate ego; a tree, a rock, a body of water, a human, or a fish. The borders between this and that are simply non-existent. Can you really see where one begins and another ends?
All fits together as a puzzle, simply because it is not a puzzle at all. All is One, but this cannot be "realized" simply because it already is "real."
So there is no longer any problem. There never was, and I am a dreadful hoax.
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Onward! yells the deaf old duck
For rather winters ever plucked
from old yarn boxes, dust and torn
All withered leaves did rusty horn

Or saw great limbs from trees did make
For weather wonders, rainbow cake
We mixed our grill with fresh of face
That sizzles greasy smiley place

Because a water fountain spews
and luncheons served in all the pews
Did many basket weavers look
to burn destroy in fire, Book.
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