Can he yet be saved, this sugar-addled addict? We feed the mass man as we do the herd from which he eats—the corpophagic masses. And that hungry mental organ? What does it know, too, but its diet: sui generis foie gras—the cognitive animal produces its own feed. Mouth to mouth, slave to slave, “truth” to “truth” maketh sick any species. Knowledge cannot save the knowledgable.
Man now has before him a choice, and only barely so at this late hour, and only if by grace he can dare see it, and by God —if he could bare to believe— divine it:
Slaughter, sheep, your temporal shepherd kings, for by your bite he leads you, stomach to cliff; or court yet that ecstatic cannibal rush he offers and perish of blind mens’ sweet knowledge.
Can you decline your sugar? Bathe in cold baptismal rivers? Starve for higher love? Can you dream freedom?
Freedom: but for a movement toward what sugar forgets and the slave abhors —that a new man, yet harbored within, and truth unsubject to false shepherds: yes, suffering is salvation. Surely, in suffering, we can believe.