00: Dream Isle

A sprawling field lays out before me. My field of vision, painted by dreams; naught but reality, in such a realm as this.

Elements of the immaterial blossom into physical fruition, bubbling up and chasing the Sun, trumping the barrier between soul and matter.

Dandelions, sunflowers, a wide assortment of flowers, without a single weed tainting their collective integrity. To live in such a world is to live within utopia.

But within the narrow walls of utopia, can only be that which lies outside reality.

Within this dream, the flowers flourish peacefully. Unconditional nurturing through sunlight, the best rainfall, and whatever specific soil they might find some need for.

But the more the material aspects of the world embolden, the further the flowers stray from that of which within. Cultivation is abandoned internally, and replaced in a more literal sense.

For perfection that is arbitrary in the pursuit of its calculations, negativity can still be found to manifest.

The negativity isn't the result of any tangible factor corrupting the flowers' components, more so it's birthed from within the collective soul of the flowers. The souls who lose sight of the value of facing the sunlight begin to arise; all the while, sinking lower.

At some point, there must be someone tilling the soil. Is there anything that could have been done differently to prevent the decay from coming about?

Or perhaps the decay was a byproduct of the direct intent harnessed within the tiller of the soil; the one whom waters the plants.

No, to think such a thought is utter foolishness. The very concept of such a being can only be precisely defined through utmost rationality and righteousness.

The light that the flowers strive for is "above" them, but it is also within themselves. It is the light within them that motivates them to reach for and improve upon the external light around them.

Just as the world is a dream, the light is said to be the same.

So the idea of this supposed God being a harvester of all, mercilessly crushing anyone who dare defy him is true, but only to some extent.

God is that which is true; that which can be defined in terms beyond the abstract found in this world of dream. And it is by God's hand that this world of dream ends and begins.

To know God, we must know the Devil. Just as both potential expressions of the order of the chicken and the egg are equal in unarguable truthfulness, reason and delusion are two sides of the same token themselves.

That which is wrong is that which diverts from the path to the golden land. The golden land is the land that we all strive towards daily, on whatever foundation that axiom may lay.

This is a story of the decline of such a land, the backward tracing of what could be imagined to be natural progression…