lies deep in the future, at a point where philosophy is no longer possible because human nature has become true to itself and thus blind to the questions that are now the ground of thought, the question after attainment, the will to power, the tremors of the deep.
When the summit is reached, the tremors will have become pillars. Something will be divined of our existence as a tingling in a spine of a psychic historian, ours is the privilege, the prerogative of stirring into being a chtonic aristocracy.
This has been our down-going; into the caverns in the caves, hide swords in crevices. By Venus' lamp and girdle, the future will find them sharp and untarnished.
Now, at the heart of the roots of the mountains, there is only the magmaic ascent.
By Poseidon the Earth-shocker, a toast of earth and fire.