In the days of the midnight sun you will see though there is no light only the memory of light only the dream. The dreams are red and they are green all are bone. Green for growing and creation and red for vengeance and retribution. Bone is both for Bone is all.
Bone is scrawled on the prison walls. The hanged man who does not die that is bone the man the man who dies so you may be free that is Bone. Do you see? The truth of Bone was reached in a grove of trees in jasmine scent breeze. You see ?
The mother and the father an engine of creation this is within Os. The sinner and the liar the cheat and sneak they are without. They have nothing within no lives to give. For within the unity is a place for the living. Those who are only mouths are nothing. Voids clad in familiar shapes blank spaces in eternity.
To be Os is to see yourself a man in a world of beast. It is not to be arrogant for you too were once a beast perhaps a moment ago or maybe a thousand thousand years. It does not matter you are to give them love with perfect hate. To despise what they are and love what they could be.
Blood brains know nothin but cheap delights and vapid wisdoms. Strike at them tear them to pieces and perhaps they will understand that they are bone or they remain nothing. Nothing comes from nothing. To be Bone brothers and sisters is to leave these creatures behind. They are of the world that is not the world. They will lie to you forever with the ignorance of the greatest fools.