The Politics of the Goddess
Mon, Jul. 6th, 2015 14:48![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tigrissky
The only reason I cannot be the Joker, (yet could be a very good Loki), is because I, unlike society, still believe in having a moral code. Or shall I refer to it in my terminology style choice: honor code. Makes it sound a little less draconian and a little more adaptable to an ever changing life.
CHANGE: Something which NONE of us can get away from. We can simply only pause to take and hold a moment as close to us as we can for as long as we can. Sometimes this is only a flash and sometimes it is a lifetime. Whatever it is, we make the effort to try and hold onto it as long as we possibly can.
Be that in reality or memory.
We are lead by our desire to be and experience in the way in which our honor code teaches us. This is the part that we are losing in humanity ... having honor. This is the true gift of wisdom, not age, not simple experience, but instead the ability to determine right from wrong without thought of acceptance. Be that acceptance of society or acceptance of the gods; wisdom dictates the right action in every circumstance with compassion not acceptance.
Honor teaches us the path to compassion. Our actions along this path gift us love. Morals teach us the path of judgement. Our actions along this path gift us acceptance.
Sometimes we deny others their love, for their awkwardness is not to be accepted. They don't fit. They make us feel uncomfortable. They anger us. They cause us distress. They are just so opposite everything we have been taught is moral ... that harsh, strictly limiting, judgement word used to control societies partnerships; be it romantic, business, or familial.
Yet if we just take the honorable path we will find compassion ...
What does a whore know of honor though?
She knows how to create a temple anywhere, out of anything, for anyone, in any moment, in any situation, with compassion's passion.
She knows how to relieve, release, and restrict you of and from suffering.
She knows you in whole and shares none of that whole with any one else. It is just for you. It is just for her. It is central.
She knows so much ... so how again is it that you know so little?
Because; she is just a whore.
A long erased Goddess of history. The one who could restore beauty to society after the moral war. The one you cannot help but treat like trash. As if a whore is simply something you enjoy for a moment, crumple up, and toss out when no longer needed. One who is seen as a choice-less voice-less child of the crowd. One who means less to, while directly reflecting, the welfare of society.
A strong cause of moral degradation in society is directly reflected by an increase in the voice-less who continue to believe they cannot speak. That how and who they are grant them no place in this world.
No one will hear them.
It has been made clear.
They do not matter.
Except in their dreams ... and in the arms of the whore.
Long forgotten and written out of history. She runs rampant in the city at night. She draws you out of the safety of your voice-less shell. She is beautiful in a way in which words cannot describe ... yet through Her the voice-less speak. Through Her the voice-less scream their passion, their desire, their hopes, dreams, fears; and then collapse into her arms.
Arms that are easily forgotten.
If only She knew how to be heard rather than just seen ...
... as someone lost among societies hopeless. A moment of strength to experience an escape from societies morals. Lost in the arms of someone who cannot speak, because no one will listen to the unseen.
The long forgotten.
She who is written out of history.
Whore.
~TigrisSky
