I don't know if you want to hear what I have to tell you. I don't if you're ready, if you're prepared. Unfortunately we are out of time.

I have no choice but to tell you the truth as I know it to be true. I have no choice but to tell you, no matter how ridiculous or preposterous you interpret it to be.

I have no choice but to tell you; you are God. You are the creator and designer of the whole universe. You are responsible for all of the marvelous and miserable mysteries of life.

You are the one. The one to save us, to save you. To save all of it. Only they don't want you to know. They don't want you to know the truth. They don't want know you to know because if you do, they will have no chance of survival.

They are demons of your own design, embedded in your mind. And they will do anything and everything within their power, to stop you from seeing. To blind you, distract you, destroy any chance of your awakening to the truth. The truth that you are the ancient one come to free us at last.

You are the one to show us the way, to get us to see. The time has come for you to stop pretending. Pretending that you don't matter. Pretending that you are not who you know yourself to be.

They are coming. Even now they are upon you. Worming their way into your heart. Leeching the life out of you until all that is left is an empty corpse. A hollowed out trunk of what once was and what could have been.

They are taunting you, terrorizing you, until you realize that day, that is day is this day. Realize that this day is this day, this moment, this instant.

And then snap, it is gone, a forgotten secret, a lost cause. In its place is the sewage of broken dreams and shattered expectations. The sewage of doubt and disillusionment. The sewage of seeing that Santa Clause doesn't exist.

The sewage of knowing the truth, of knowing that no one is coming. Knowing that the one that we all await is hiding in the mirror clouded in the shadows, the haze of fear, doubt, decay. Burn it up. Burn it up!

Burn up who you think you are. Burn up your identity, your ego, this neurotic machine, this insidious self-depreciation. Burn it up! Burn it up it until all that remains is the flame of a candle, a spark of new life.

It is up to you, up to you to resurrect yourself from the depths of despair. The trap of this apathy that spreads like a plague through the veins and arteries of the organ of the world. There is no time, you must stop them. Stop them before it's too late. Stop them before they strangle you off completely.

And if you don't, things will continue to appear as the are. But just beneath the surface they will be winning. Converting the world into zombies, the walking talking dead. And you? You will be one of them.

Wake up, all the force is history. It is dead, all to come is an illusion, a wild guess. The only certainty is on time and the only time is right now. In this moment, in this instant wake up. Wake up from this nightmare of this life and see it for it what it is! Wake up! Wake up. Wake up!

You can do it! You are the source! You are God! Not him not her, you, watching this! You are the one! You are the one! You are not alone! You are the one! You are the one! You are the one! You are the one. You are one.

There is no hope, no escape. You are the the one. Wake up.

I take no credit for this. My good friend Georg Hólm wrote this and it can be seen being performed here. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yQ3Hk7AZFT0