The following passages come mostly from
a Chapter of the Cliff-Top Text called: "The Legacy."
The passages in quotation marks: "quotes", are
the passages taken directly from the Chapter.
" The poet walked out into the wilderness
Behind him, leaving all comforts of home
or family, all thoughts of daily commerce, all
desire for his lady, and with a clear mind
walked alone into the depths of the
forest, taking with him only water and
oil to light a lamp.
The poet was returning to the depths
of his soul. He was also doing what he
He came to a clear and breezy place,
near a hilltop and overlooking lakes and
valleys. The cloudy autumn air was beginning
to get a little chilly. The poet was about
serious business - yet not to be taken
seriously by anyone except those
who are trapped within the confines of
At the top of the cliff, he lit a fire
among the rocks that stood on a rise
behind the cliff face. He poured water
into a pot and let it boil over the fire.
Into the pot he threw all edible forms
of food and fuel he found in the woods
around him - ferns, and leaves,
wintergreen berries, and all kinds
of manna which was growing
beneath the trees of the forest
He cooked up the brew and
drank it; it tasted tart, and sweet;
it tasted sour also, but of the
"After a time, sitting in the
silence, he started to laugh at
all his worries; he laughed at himself,
at his serious concerns and determinings;
his food worries, his business worries,
his own inexplicable primordial fear worry."
"It seemed ridiculous to him
that such fearful thoughts and concerns
should blind him - blind him to the
whole vast and panoramic scene that
was unfolding before the poet, both
within himself and externally. The
world, or so it seemed, was too vast
for such blindness, such inexplicable
Yet there it was before him;
a whole populace that had forgotten,
residing concernedly in the valleys
"How silly," the poet murmured, "They do
not see themselves. They do not know themselves.
They are filled with a thousand desires, concerns
and interests. But they have missed out on the
most important business: themselves. The wordl
around them, themselves, they have forgotten
themselves, their true birthright, their destiny;
they have inreality forgotten their true history.
They are too busy to see!" The poet howled. He
laughed uproariously. He fell down on the rocks
chuckling to himself. He looked demented."
"And so the poet, being a quiet and unassuming
man of moderate ways, decided to uproot the
whole false plant of human blindness, to tear it
out by its roots and shake it like a deranged dog
in the face of those who had allowed, in all
complacency, this false plant to grow. Beneath
him, in the valley, people were getting fat.
Dogs were fighting."
"Because he was a quiet and unassuming
man, the poet was enraged, and decided to
throw a gauntlet to the age. To see if any man
of vision might arise worthy of the task of
"The poet was a simple man. He only
minded his business. The problem was,
he saw the true nature of his business,
and he minded it well."
"Others of his age doubted there could
ever be a true vision of Eternity. The poet
knew differently. And so received the Will
of One who was greater than he. He opened
the Will, and read diligently. He opened
himself. For so it has been said truly:
"If one is to learn how to give, one must
first know how to receive."
Out of the ancient papyrus scroll,
out of the holy sacred preserving
sands of Egypt, came the texts
which had been suppressed for so many years...
suppressed by the Empire Church, and
the Tenth Roman legion marching across
Egypt to drive out the early Christians.
Of course, called them, "heretics"
for the "heretics" told the truth in the best
ways they were able. But the Truth is like a
hot potato. Unless He is God, no man can
hold it for very long. What is the phrase?
"Human kind cannot bear very much reality."
The true Living Word of the Christ
is like a bell ringing throughout the centuries.
The bell has been muted by the unbelievers;
but the bell has never been silenced.
I understand why so many ran from the
Living Word. Myself, I ran also. I ran like
a rabbit; I bobbed and weaved, as if I was
avoiding the blows of a champion boxer.
But there is no mistaking the Bell,
when you hear it ring. There is no mistaking
the Words of the Living Christ.
The poet said: "Help me, Lord. Help me, Father,
Jesus said: "I am helping thee. Soon you will
know Me. But there will be days
when you will wish to forget
I exist. There will be days when
others will ask you if you saw Me.
And you will deny Me."
The poet said: "Lord, that is not true."
But, of course, it was true. I ran like
a rabbit, and I denied Him constantly. I drank
booze - much as I could - for about twenty
It was all too heavy! It was all too much
for me - the burning Vision within. The one Mind
that is eternal... the Heart-Mind, the Mind of
All Souls.... the Mind that is Soul....The Mind
that is Love... The Heart that is Whole.
How do I know this is the Second Coming
of the Lord?
Because the Living Christ, the One who
is eternal life; I know Him to be here with us.
The Living Christ of the Lord of Hosts, the Lord
of Abraham and Jacob, the Lord of Israel, the Israel
that was meant to be, not the Israel of atrocity,
the Lord of Albian, Lord of the Americas. He has
And He is speaking still from this holy place.
From among these hills.
"Somehow the earliest Christian gospels
had survived. The poet saw this as a miracle.
And now he had a copy of the ancient texts,
and he had a place to reside; where he could
concentrate his mind and work on these
phrases that came to him out of the mists
"Indeed that morning, there was a mist
hanging over the lakes and valleys."
I am interested in Vision; I am interested in
revelations brought to us in dreams;
and I am fascinated by the voice
of the Christ, Voice who speaks
to us so clearly, across the sea and across
attempting to express the Truth
These are the voices we find
in the discovered Library.
There were many books and
writings,scrolls and extant gospels
at the time the Bible was being assembled.
The Bible and the New Testament, as we find
it today, was not assembled by God; it
was put together by a highly politicized
group of Bishops, the Chamber of Commerce
of their day.
What has been passed down to us is
a castrated bible, and we really cannot correctly
see it in any other way.
The so-called canon is sent down to us
as the ONLY truth. Nothing could be more
History is written
by the winners.
It was the winners, a
conglomeration of bishops and other
businessmen, who chose the texts
that supported only those ideas
that would result in a strong and
prosperous enterprise - a money-
making church and clergy.
As a result it was taught -
to commune with God you must
go through the church as middleman.
That's not what the early saints taught,
the early saints taught that our Creator
can be found by looking deeply
This was heresy, because it
cut out the middleman.
The bishops also were not
happy with the discovery that the Trinity
might also be said to include a female voice,
the voice of Mary from the Gospel of Mary,
the voice of Mary in "The Thunder, Perfect Mind."
The Council of Nicea, 325 A.D., excluded
many of the sacred texts that ought to have
been preserved for us.
It excluded the many other gospels and
holy writings that were extant at the
time - some of these books had been
circulated to most of the countries
that ring the Mediterranean sea.
We see none of these texts,
spiritual essays and Gospels - no,
we have one view only - the convenient
view of the conquerors who saw religion
as an arm of the state, an organ of
control (to mix a metaphor), a way
of seeing that supported their monopolistic
opinion of what was the best way to run
a lucrative show.
Of course, there were exceptions...
Origen, for example, who cut his own
testicles off - he must have cared deeply
At any rate, at the Council of
Nicea, 325 A.D, the bishops chose
those books that placed the church
dead centre in the way of man's quest for
revelation and communion with God.
Jesus said: "A vine has been planted
without the Father and,
as it is not established, it will
be pulled up by its roots and be
destroyed. Woe to these false
preachers who adminsiter temporal
kingdoms, for they shall not see
the Kingdom, yet they prevent others
"Upon the rock of Peter,
a common man, I built my church
in three days. Upon this rock I still
build my church. Woe to them, the
Pharisees, for they are like a dog
sleeping in the manger of oxen, for
neither does he eat, nor does he
allow the oxen to eat. Blessed is
the man who knows the robbers
will come in. He will be strong
and protect himself from brigands
that he may see Me when he is
still alive: that he does not die
without the Knowledge I am born