It has been agreed:
Above the gods stands Destiny.
And so we say:
That problems of destiny are still more entrancing than problems of chance because within the compass of destiny one requires perspective on the return of the will. Here we find our Party (ourselves), facing the desert where property and past have been abandoned, and the social contract, nothing but wheel tracks
disappearing, the ghost of a dance, and cannibalism about to start.
That this place, where the gods are most likely to fail us; where the doing as it’s done, doing it over and over, with no promise that anything will add up, knowing we do not know, we can not know, knowing only:
what we do is about who does it.
And so we discover:
That the same soul can not serve two masters.
And we have determined:
That what we have to seek for, we seek relentlessly; all of the time. Insisting on images that become obsessions, on fate shrouded in silence.
It has been said:
That every gift involves a sacrifice.
And so we say:
That ours will be an exemplary case of love without respite opening a psychic space in the very center of indifference. Where our every action has been dreamt into being keeping, if not death, at least the deadening outside of this circle of existence inside our fantasy of longevity through which we all expire.
This can never happen but always is. There is madness here. Extraordinary things happen rarely anymore.
We bring bodies back into souls.