All fiction, no worries...
I have seen the Devil. It is simple. Nothing but a great Cookie Cutter that stamps not dough but minds. Once a mind is stamped, it takes in miniature the form of the Devil. It attempts to encircle and shape other minds.
When people talk nowadays, I hear mostly cookie cutters. You can see the mental cage--for that is what it is--through the medium of words or body language. Sometimes, I hear only one sentence, but that is enough. I have been known to approach those who are especially gone and exclaim, “Aha! you have been stamped, molded, soul in a box.”
If Jesus comes to me, I chant my warding spell, “soulinabox, soulinabox, soulinabox” and Jesus goes away.
Because the cookie cutter lives through words, it can move as fast as fire and lightning. Since the rise of the machines, words have been able to strike anywhere in the world, assassinate from thousands of miles away.
Once the cookie cutter is a multitude, it is even harder for an individual to resist. Cookie cutters in hordes of little minds begin to piece together the full contours of the Devil, and these are Hate.
If the cookie cutter fails to stamp you, it will try again and again. It knows. You can fool it by pretending to be caught in its sharp edges. Obedient. Trite. The Devil’s banal echo.
If you pretend or protest, you will be gnawed at by the constant knife. It hits softly, again and again, seeking to infect your will power, your stamina, your patience. It hates the philosophy, art and spirit that not only protect your mind but regenerate you. REMEMBER: If you cannot regenerate, you will lose in the end, your defenses nothing but rocks gradually eroded by constant waves.
Words said in kindness can be the most evil of demons. Think of missionaries fervent with cookie-cutter Love while they go about dismantling culture and independence, filling minds with the equivalent of Santa Claus.
You cannot trust those who approach you with the cookie cutter’s shallow simulacrums. You will want to, because you are alone, tired, frustrated, abandoned, penniless.
But if you accept, you are lost. The blade comes down like a psychic axe, chopping off your metaphysical limbs and wings. You get brutally reformed into a copy of the cookie cutter. You bleed deep invisible blood--the most heartfelt and meaningful sort--but it is trapped within the impenetrable sides of the hard device. Nothing is more callous than the cookie cutter, once you must rely on it to function.
Once you are inside, in anguish from losing your limbs and wings, you will never heal, because you aren’t free. You will smile and hide from your own anguish, the loss of what you are, while you parrot the mundane tune of hell.
Which is worse? To be dismembered and paralyzed in a quadriplegic replica, not of yourself, but the banality of the Devil? Or to feel the attack of the blade and yet deflect it, over and over, to keep your wisdom and sight?
Never forget the Good. It is not religious but beyond any religion. It dwells in the nature of things, a beautiful possibility in the soil of the cosmos. The Divine Good is what regenerates you. In my case, the Good has become a Goddess with many forms. It will approach you as you are, if you are brave.
Never forget that this world is purgatory. A test. If you embrace the Good, you defeat the Devil, even if it is merely a secret show of resistance.
Remember what I have told you: Busyness is the enemy of hard work and, crucial, there are worse fates than death.