It is good that you see my greatness and your limitation!
You begin to find the right measure, you scorner of everything effective and living.
I curse my darkness, my eternal abasement and yet I am what has an effect and you are just what appears, you deceitful appearance, charlatan, swindler, who steals the love of man from me.
But today is a good day, the day where my curse reaches you-proclaim your limitation, shout out that you steal, that you rob the innocent you cheat and deceive.
I am what has an effect and curse you, that the truly effective is always concealed!
That’s why my brother had to be born the son of a king and all appearance and shimmer had to surround him till the grave, so that he became seen.
Who among all the wise ones would have noticed him, if appearance had not emphasized him?
Cursed be appearance, which deceives the world for all reality.
Truly a good day, Philemon, your wing will be clipped. ~Jung’s Ka, The Black Books, Vol. VII, Page 184
Philemon is frightened.
He senses the danger of the earth.
He fears the beautiful serpent poison of the earth.
His foot was once lamed by a poisonous bite, but wings grew. He knows the power of poison, so he develops the power to fly.
He sees the serpent among the roses and therefore wants to be a butterfly.
However, do not let yourself be too enchanted by him, since you are a man, a brother of the earth-dwelling animals.
How beautiful and familiar is the fortune of the earth!
The people you know and love, who know and love you, the trees that lovingly shade this spot of earth, the dewy flowers which greet the sun, the birds that fill the fluttering air of the dawn, shimmering leaves and flowers, the glittering surface of the water, the wind that clouds over the mountains, that is the fortune of the earth.
This is also Philemon, the one who loves.
The daimons reconcile themselves in man, who found himself, who is the source of the four streams and the spring-bearing earth.
Water flows from his peak toward the four winds.
He is the sea that gave birth to the sun, he is the mountain that carries the sun, he is the father of the four great streams, he is the cross that binds the four great daimons.
He is the incorruptible seed of the nothing that accidentally fell through space.
This seed is the beginning, younger than all beginnings, older than every end. I praise the greatness and smallness of man.
His suffering fills the earth, his fate is in the smallest and most secret things. ~Jung’s Soul, The Black Books, Vol. VII, Page 184