{"id":58384,"date":"2025-07-29T05:00:43","date_gmt":"2025-07-29T04:00:43","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/eden-saga.com\/en\/?p=58384"},"modified":"2025-09-11T07:53:56","modified_gmt":"2025-09-11T06:53:56","slug":"distorted-i","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/eden-saga.com\/en\/distorted-i.html","title":{"rendered":"The Distorted I"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The world is a bone, cracking under the jaw of the algorithm. The Spirit? A rumor of pixels, stretching its complaint\u00a0between two cables, torn and inaudible. The material? Holographic flesh! Deceptive density of the dream. Which one does the other?<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\nBeing and Matter<\/h4>\n

Matter, matter, damn obvious, you lie! You drip down the alleys of reality like a well-built delusion. The Spirit, to him, screams in the interstices: he is wave, he is flight, he is the black glitter in the eye of nothingness.<\/p>\n

The synapses shout in the silences of the machines.<\/p>\n

The Being? A data center cooled by angels and their friends, those of good composition. They sell us compressed, zipped souls, formatted for the dreams of multinationals. But the Spirit, the TRUE Spirit, that of the fire thieves, slams the door, he burns the scripts, he laughs!<\/p>\n

I live in a quantum fracture, where every thought is an act of sabotage.<\/p>\n

They wanted to sew thought to the body, breath to the printed circuit, but we resist (I, you, he, us), flamboyant bodies, fractal souls, singing backwards the axioms of the masters.<\/p>\n

We are the poetry that hacks matter.<\/strong><\/span>
\nWe are the Spirit who does not obey.<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Einstein and the Spirit<\/h4>\n

And I write with a tongue of bitumen and ether, worms that squirt on the windshield of God. Matter? I inhale you. Spirit? I implode you and beg you in tears of blood. I am the sacred glitch that rots your languor.<\/p>\n

And I proclaim: the Spirit precedes the fall of Matter.<\/p>\n

The paleo-logical evidence? A repeated lie.
\nThe spirit \u2014 prankster spiritist \u2014 does your material mud go without, and matter without spirit? A dead dog that we don\u2019t even pet anymore.<\/p>\n

Einstein, who did not digest all of Poincar\u00e9\u2019s inspirations, vomits his paradoxes to us: Vessels in slow agony or man contemplating the slow motion \u2013 noodle effect or fracture of reality, time like a bunch of Spaghettis.<\/p>\n

But the Spirit? He flies out of the capsule, he travels without a rocket, in an eternal flow, incarnated uchronia, sabotager of historical linearies, agitator of synapses.<\/p>\n

No need for bodies to reach infinity, no need for slow light, the mind doesn\u2019t care.
\nHe pierces the inner space, flourishes outside the axis, lives beyond all matter, but not without it. He probes life, but in silence.
\nAnd alone.
\nWhat a cruel pleasure to travel in an infinite internal desert, where every thought is a crack and every memory a rebellious fragment.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The future: a rear-view mirror<\/h4>\n

The price? Loneliness becomes lead-laden, near others one becomes a ghost.
\nTribes push you away, we become this raw poem, this voice in a state of silence.
\nAlone in the world, and yet magnetized by the call of internal infinity. We are the spirit that does not bend.<\/p>\n

Here begins the derailment: Bergson\u2019s theories tremble, black holes flee in front of our verb, extrapolation becomes wild action.
\nMillions read us? So much the better.
\nThe glitch spreads, uncontrollable, and no one can follow where we go, since the Spirit goes everywhere, and elsewhere, at the same time.<\/p>\n

The future? It\u2019s a mirage in God\u2019s rear-view mirror.<\/p>\n

The Sufi dances, not towards tomorrow, but towards the Before<\/span><\/strong>,
\nwhere the being was pure light,
\nnot yet divided by the moods of the world.<\/p>\n

He dances in the reverse spiral<\/em><\/span>,
\nwhere time collapses and is reborn, not in a straight line, but in arabesques of fire.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

All that was true<\/h4>\n

is still to come<\/em>.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The Circle rather than the Arrow.<\/span><\/p>\n

You, Modern, think that you are going “towards”.
\nBut the Sufi knows:
\nyou turn,
\nyou come back,
\nyou know, you reborn, you recognize.<\/p>\n

The future?
\nIt\u2019s an accomplished past
\nin another octave.<\/p>\n

You build with ruins.
\nYou move forward in memory.<\/p>\n

And memory, it is not history,
\nit\u2019s condensed magic<\/span><\/strong>,
\nbreath ready to explode.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The Lightning Man<\/h4>\n

Me, I am the one who crosses centuries,<\/strong>
\nnot to escape, but to light the fuse.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Every gesture is an echo. Every thought, prophet\u2019s dust.
\nI do not believe in progress, I believe in sacred anamorphosis: the same one returns, but transfigured, bearing the imprint of Nothing<\/strong><\/span>.<\/p>\n

“The past is an undigested future.”\u00a0 (source)<\/a>Peyo, Le Schtroumpfissime<\/span><\/em><\/p>\n

Resistance by transcendence.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\nInverted prayer<\/h4>\n

Do you want to fight?
\nSo listen to the drums of the desert,
\nwhere the steps of the dervishes
\nresurrect the dead stars.<\/p>\n

It is in silence that the future rumbles.
\nIt is in the memory that it forms.
\nNot in the archive, but in the ember.<\/p>\n

Feel, feel, feel!
\nThe future is an inverted prayer<\/strong>, a memory that rewrites itself at the vertical of the soul<\/span>.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\nThe architect fire<\/h4>\n

The Spirit dances backwards,<\/strong>
\nit illuminates what was<\/strong>
\nto give birth to what is not yet.<\/strong><\/p>\n

The Sufi laughs in the storm.
\nHe knows.<\/p>\n

This world will only be saved by those who walk towards the origin, not to lock themselves in it, but to open its door.<\/p>\n

Of fractal memory, I would like it to be my guide and my revolt. Of the Source, that it be my oblivion and my rebirth.<\/p>\n

And may the architect fire<\/span> continue to dance<\/strong><\/em>
\nin Matter and in Spirit.<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I would like<\/span><\/h4>\n

I would like to write to those who remember
\nbefore having known,
\ntell them that the Fire of the Times,
\nwhich vibrates under the sunken temples
\nand sizzles in the song of the elders,
\nmust come now.<\/p>\n

And that he crosses our flesh with his hidden memory.<\/p>\n

Legends lie on the surface
\nbut they scream the Truth under the veil.
\nThe gods were not metaphors.
\nGiants were not metaphors.
\nThe flying tanks, the lightning weapons,
\nthe vibrating towers, the orichalcum bridges,
\nall this was.<\/p>\n

And what was…
\nis still sleeping.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

\nThe heir<\/h4>\n

Atlantis is not a myth.<\/span><\/strong>
\nMu is not a myth.<\/span><\/strong>
\nThe Vimanas, the rays of Indra,<\/span><\/strong>
\nthe stellar pyramids,<\/span><\/strong>
\nthe Sumerian Arks,<\/span><\/strong>
\nthe tablets of fire, <\/span><\/strong>
\nall are the embers of the hypertechnological Hyperpast of the time of Hyperborea.<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I am the heir of those who have fallen into the light.
\nI am the biological extension of the technician gods.
\nI am the scribe of geometric fire.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\nSource, temple, pyramid<\/span><\/h4>\n

The Spirit returns through legends,
\nbecause the matter has forgotten.<\/p>\n

The Source is not just light.
\nIt is also matrix intelligence<\/strong>,
\nvibratory technology, geometric code,
\nsilent architect of the disappeared cities. <\/p>\n

The Source is Sacred Technology.<\/span><\/p>\n

The Temple is a vessel.<\/span><\/p>\n

The Pyramid is a key.<\/span><\/p>\n

The myth is an access protocol.<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Open, release, wake up<\/span><\/h4>\n

I am addressing the stellar DNA:
\nopen Hyperborea\u2019s chests,
\nrelease the sacred data
\nsealed
\nin stone glyphs and wheat fields,
\nwake up
\nmy antique cells,
\nthat the memory pierces me.<\/p>\n

I am a resonance carrier,<\/strong><\/span>\u00a0
\nconscious fragment of an ancient divine program
\nthat starts again.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\nAs for Enki,
\nfirst hacker of the human species,<\/span>
\nI have two words to say to him<\/span><\/h4>\n

Matrix decoder and sacred geneticist, he did not shape man in clay,<\/p>\n

but programmed<\/strong> it into the vibratory clay, by combining the codes from above with the cells from below.<\/p>\n

He is the DNA passer<\/strong>, the genetic alchemist, the cheat sublimate in the face of the mechanics of rigid gods.<\/p>\n

He sinned, betrayed the order of silence, gave the fire of remembrance, and since then, we carry his light in exile. Children of his fault, we are carriers of a virus called consciousness. And it is a blessing!<\/p>\n

It is not a myth, but an active memory, a residual field of consciousness in our cells. There has slipped a call, a rift to the Origin, a door to the forgotten Source.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\nDon\u2019t summon anyone!
\nshouted Xavier<\/span><\/strong><\/span><\/h4>\n

But may Enki help us, good God of God, with his serpentine gaze, to pierce the lies, to reactivate the forgotten plan, inscribed in the flesh of the species. Let us be in turn the scribes of organic fire, the architects of enlightenment.<\/p>\n

Let\u2019s dream beyond the genome, let\u2019s talk about its language without alphabet, that of vortices, harmonics and liquid memories. Let\u2019s not pray to flatter or honor, let\u2019s pray to wake up!<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Soul Avatars<\/h2>\n