There's this thick, black, goo floating around. You can't see it, but you can feel it.
It's not obvious to you, but you are reminded of it when observing others.
It's not evil per say, it's the negation of evil. And of good.
There are no decisions here. There is no outcome. There are no sides.
Just repeated habits of routine.
Acceptance to its fullest expression, without awareness.
Even the slave knows the prison that they are in.
There's no slave now. No prisons.
It's all been synthesized and sterilized.
No more dichotomy or possibility. Just goo.
I wouldn't call it death. Because to evoke death, brings the acceptance of life.
This is different.
There are no words. Because words bring meaning.
There is one word, meaningless.
Confusion wrapped in purpose.
Deep, dark, eternal. Always accepting.
It doesn't want to be seen. It's there to lurk on the border of consciousness and direct action from the unseen.
The source is unknowable, because this is it's nature.
The effects are observable though.
Now I see.