Now, I closed my eyes and I saw the true shape, face of a book. Tall, sinewy, powerful, svelte, she stood there, an Amazon from ages past, her hair flowed with the rage of the Wli, queenly, her eyes fiery with wisdom divine. At her hands were two hooks, chained to her hands, her instruments. By those hooks, Sophia draws out thy soul, a Soul Reaper, but she takes not yours away but makes you aware of your very own Sophia, her sister within you. She accelerates the growth and then harvests it. She comes, no, she looms, you look upon her with apprehension but her mission is not to subjugate you to her will but to liberate you, unchain you, draw out your Philosophy. Though, in the end, thy Sophia is in the image of her, that is, thy Sophia, you don’t follow Sophia, thou art Sophia walking alongside Sophia. How else should I say it? Thou hath a switch upon thy being and the ghostly gossamer hand of Sophia comes and alights upon and lights up thy places of dereliction, thy places of murk and you see anew. Should it mirror Sophia directly, no matter, so far as it is thy catacombs that are lit up and broadcast the brilliant light of thy soul.

In that time, in that very time, the wilderness has opened up unto you, the universe is becoming you; you, the universe. Thank You.

Now, look what my brother Pierre has to say.

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