Much like wheels within wheels, there is always a new inner circle to aspire to enter. Only the most dedicated to the cause may enter and partake of the next level of the hidden truths. The Unity is a very effective organization. And very secretive. So secretive that many of its members are unaware of its nature.
A nature that it goes to great lengths to conceal from both outside and inside.
Official stories of its origins and founding vary by region, and by circle. Each local group above a certain level is encouraged to find its own origin story, and to act as if they are at the innermost circle.
I’m coming to believe there may be no “innermost” circle. But rather an elaborate labyrinth of memberships and rituals designed to hold the attention of those whose hearts are not pure.
And I think I might just be on to something, as new instructions have appeared in my notebook overnight.
Beware unknown unknowns, because they are
lurking unseen unheard unfelt yet there
Sunlight illuminating the shadows
repeatedly sustained will help them go
what evil lurks in the hearts of men?
the shadow knows, tells all, again, again.
Fear not, be not yellow, nor fowl, chicken
awareness now fends off chance of victim
as a window into darkest corners
reveals lurking dangers, evil doers.
renewed returning — as spring ever sprung
green grass regrowing — youth forever young
who what why where when — fine fishy foibles
forever lost, free — found gently joyful
lividly lost, lured — wild will-o’-the-wisp
fair full afraid yet — haunts hallowed with lisp
less scared less afraid — short shrift for shaking
narrow niched nightmares — o’er before being
sunlight sows safety — seems silly later
unmasked known unknown — and tall tale teller
Time to check my traps. Not necessarily for dinner, but you never know.
“Hey! Get me out of this cage, and we’ll talk.”
Great. I’ve caught something, and it is chatty. I did not see that coming. “I think we’ll talk for a minute just like this first, thanks.”
“But you must let me out?”
The trap is indeed sprung, and there is something fluffy in the cage. It turns slowly. It is the cat that has been fading in and out around our campsites and generally acting smug. “Not so smug now, eh, wise guy?”
“Call me Bruce. And let me out!”
“Ok, Bruce. You know I’m Sydney and she’s Gwen. Time for a little cooperation.”
After pumping him for all he was worth, we agreed he was acting independently, and was likely not connected to any of the mysteries. So we did let him out.
But did that ungrateful monster thank us?
He faded out practically in my arms as I opened the cage!