As the ark once truly existed, in figure, in
symbolic form, so is it in truth, in reality now, deep in the inmost room: the
most holy place: the innermost part of laid-low back-to-front persons. It is
buried there in the dark, hidden behind the veil of flesh, and beyond the reach
of anything other. It is all invisible there; where none can touch it; for touch
it and it dies. The pure gold there, all paved inside, is not of its self; it is
but the container of the Life, in earthen vessels; it was not the Life itself.
An ark such as this has nothing at all that
can be ‘carried,’ as of anything added; it needed nothing outside of itself; it
was already full; the container of the Presence has no knowledge it will call
its own. It was and is complete; because it is just: ‘person.’ And being just ‘person:’
personal: personal relationship, it is of course, invisible. We cannot see
people’s insides. Any ark of the Presence is invisible it is inside the dark… as
it once was, in symbolic form, that it might have no light of its own. No
natural light needed where all is his:
no earthly knowledge if all was his. In
the pitch dark there was nothing but God.
On the outside, the ark of the Presence, and
the ark, the inner vessel, is now broken human beings; here a mental case there
the despised; all nothings, just the scum and the off-scouring of the world; but
on the inside holy containers of the heavenly treasure and The Holy Grail of
the ancient quest.
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