As The Raven Dreams Podcast - "Doxology" By WeirdBryceGuy (Podcast TEST)

Episode Date: March 29, 2020

I'm uploading this as a test of this whole system. I am likely going to start making more episodes based on the stories I read for my YT channel.  This story is by WeirdBryceGuy,  SOURCE: "Doxology" by WeirdBryceGuy https://www.reddit.com/r/cryosleep/comments/ezailj/doxology/   -Used WITH FULL PERMISSION per request sent to user on Reddit, by As The Raven Dreams, here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BNdR1oNPA2w  I am NOT using this story for monetary gain in ANY WAY, SHAPE, OR FORM. This is simply to test the platform, and if Bryce Requests that I remove it from this platform, I will absolutely do so.  --- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/astheravendreams/message Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/astheravendreams/support Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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I don't know if God exists. I don't know if gods are being so advanced as to be indistinguishable from our perception of God's exists. I don't know if we're alone in the unfathomable expanse of the universe. or if out there somewhere, a species exists pondering the same question. For many people, this uncertainty breeds fear or dejection. It did both for me, at first, when after studying and speculating and philosophizing, I could not find an answer I truly, earnestly believed in.

I felt even more forlorn, more existentially hopeless than before. I never felt a certitude of faith. never held a confidence, or perhaps proper understanding, and science. Two sides, two pathways to reach that ultimate conclusion, that final, definite answer, and yet both were blocked by dubiety and inconclusiveness. I mentioned that not knowing for a lot of people creates a fear, a persistent state of unease, and apprehension. They fear either oblivion if there is no afterlife, or damnation if there is, and they happened to falsely worship the wrong demiurge. I held both of these fears at different stages of my life,

and then I came across something which instilled me with a different, far worse, fear, an abject dread that makes all horrors of man's creation seem trivial and innocuous. I fear an incompatibility with God. By default, one assumes that God would be infallible, unerring, never self-doubting. That he is omniscient, omnipotent, and omnipresent. As a loose definition of God or generic gods would be like, I accept these parameters wholeheartedly.

I was, in a sense, given a vision. I know this will immediately roll some eyes and cause many heads to shake, but I ask that you at least listen to what I have to say. This vision came to me in a series of images, sounds, and intimations, which I've compiled and structured into a sort of narrative. I believe the dispensing of these visions was a sort of cosmic lamentation, by both God and the uncountable creatures he's created who were lost under the circumstances I will soon recount.

Somehow, these raw, cosmically transmitted emotions and records of event reached me. I do not doubt that others have been similarly contacted. Contained within these visions, and the story through which I'll soon express them, are answers to so many questions we've debated since the genesis of modern civilization. The existence of other intelligent life, what lies beyond our observable universe, does God or some higher power exist? And if so, why is he not definitely undeniably shown himself to us? As I've stated, I have put together a story from the information's sights and unreal perceptions that I've received.

First, the voyage. Praise be to the insurmountable king, a blessing bestowed upon regions who then dispense it, marginally to their claimed lands. The sapient sovereign rules with cosmic accords, unerring and for the betterment of the uplifted and downtrodden alike. Cast through celestial seas, bobbing amidst torrential nebulae, the ark of his indomitable hand docks at the shores of every world, offering passage to the oceanic black to his divine. realm. Alas, on this charitable trek, the waters are troublesome, even for his impregnable vessel. Arry and with no bottom in which to anchor, the ship is tossed about like a leaf in a stream, faltering even though guided by such a grand helmsman. Asteroids collide with the mast and stellar rays ignite the sails. The underbelly grinds against orbital debris. The underbelly grinds against orbital debris

cracking and admitting cosmic radiation. Structural integrity. All but lost. The captain orders the ship's complement to evacuate. Lifeboats depart the crumbling ark and disperse to places to unknown. The captain remains, and be aware that this captain does not abide by the rules of mortality, allows the obliteration to unfold around him, sorrowful of his failings and wishing to be destroyed along with his ship.

Astrolite dispels the ever-black of space him during his days adrift. His mind recounts the construction of his vessel with scrupulous recollection, yet no flaw could be remembered in its inordinate build. He alone had sailed these abyssal seas for innumerable periods without issue. Every plank had been imbued with his powers of his deification. Every material of which the ship had been composed, and yet impossibly the latest voyage saw its complete destruction by the natural phenomena of space. A capacity of infinite measure was allotted, and only a few civilizations had embarked, yet the ship seemed to buckle under their relatively infinitesimal weight. There was no rationale by which the destruction could have occurred.

It was paceless ruination. How, in my presence, could be able to be. could this disaster have happened? I, sublime ruler, have never built something of temporary design. My structures see no end. They weaken no more than I do. Yet this voyage of salvation, my most grand invention, utterly fails. His inquiries go unanswered, for no being holds intellectual dominance over him.

Days pass, and he subsists. Shipwrecked among the stars. when the chill of the lightless void permeates his raiment. Thinking nothing of it at first, he conjures his own imperialian glow and heats the chilled space. But the inevitable realization for the cause of the sudden frigidity dawns on him. The stars, they have been eclipsed. But what structure could blot out those garcantuan orbs?

He orientates himself to a comfortable acclamation and turns toward the shadowed bodies. The sight was unbelievable, even for him, an entity ignorant to the impossible. There, stoic and sturdy, was his divine ship. Not a scratch nor tear blemished the great thing, and even in the blitzing assault by solar flares it held adrift unscathed. He hastily boarded and scrutinized every inch of the ship, determined to find both a cause for its destruction and reformation, yet he found answers for neither. For the first time in all of existence,

he was dumbfounded. Deciding that further investigation would be fruitless and maddening, he took the helm and returned to his celestial home. His realm was one of solitude, for only he could traverse unassisted the Abon Tides that separated his dominion from the realms of the mortal creatures. Though he created species abound in all manners of form, he cannot create one akin to himself.

The mightiest of his own offspring would still fall to the softest of his blows. Divinity of life was a riddle that he had yet to solve, and like the admittedly insipid humans, he could not fathom a tangible means of perfectly recreating his own composition. So, he dwelt alone and in ever-mounting boredom. It was this loneliness that originally gave him the idea of gathering his creations and bringing them to his wondrous kingdom, even if they were of lesser fortitude, they could still bring him great happiness in their own ways.

He was so unbearably lonely, so intolerably bored, that he was willing to pardon all living creatures, willing to, despite whatever blasphemous atrocities they'd committed, allow man and beast alike into his kingdom, and dwell perennially in his palace. He would forestall death, render it an impossibility. But somehow, by some mechanism, which inexplicably served to contest his will, this attempt was prevented. He thought to retire and forge a new novel dimension in which an equally novel race of colossal arachnids could exist. But the idea quickly lost its allure at the remembrance of a similar realm

he crafted and populated with giant crustaceans. Instead, he looked beyond the spheres of his design and peered into that illimitable and ultra-oblivion toward which the boundaries of all his universe was raced. Toward some ultra-universal shore beyond the scope of even his ken. The Catechism. In his reflection on a life perpetually devoid of inspiration, a thought began to creep into his ponderings.

The concept was of a black ironic humor that, after taking time to truly evaluate this concept, seemed justly fitting as consequence for his hubris. Oh, by what hand have a moment have. I have been dealt with this cruel predicament. It is so obvious an idea, so sensible and ethic, yet I cannot conceive of an author beyond myself that could have written it. Is it true that the transient dereliction of my vessel only came to be due to its passengers? I, potently instilled with the air of divinity, may sail unimpeded, but upon taking in refugees unlike myself,

had placed a hex on the ship, depriving it of its heavenly fortitude. The slimy curse forever condemns me to an unbearable isolation. I cannot walk among my children, for too much exposure would lead some to ask me every one that skirt their mind, and others to plot my usurpation, which would subsequently warrant their swift punishment. An absolutely vexing situation,

one that even my godly mind cannot evince. My children, I love thee, but I cannot stand to go on without the entirety of you, and neither can't stand. can I reconcile the issue of bringing you all with me? If I were to grant you all a swift collective annihilation, only a small few of you would even be allowed by my own vexing guidelines to join me.

The rest, as per your profanity and sin, would be ushered to sub-dimensional and Hadean realms, over which I have completely ceded my rule. RBC Training Ground has discovered potential in over 20,000 Canadian athletes and counting. Your story could be next. If you've got the drive, they'll help you find your path to the Olympics. Let's see what you've got.

Sign up for free at rBC training ground.ca. Be damned this ascended state. For what good is omnipotence if it cannot be used to aid in the transcendence of the lesser beings? I reject this life. I have had my fill of supremacy. Godhood is a fate worse than the oblivion. Goodbye and please forgive thy father. and on this day, forevermore, godless times began.

Doxology. I have felt him. It's more than just a sense of happiness or contentment or some ambiguous extrasensory awareness of a presence. It is a recognition of an intangible yet definite entity on the cusp of our perception, of this realm and the next. He, with deific candor, expresses his divine benevolence through observable actions and imparts a feeling of well-being in his children.

It is a splendid, wondrous feeling to be embraced by his love. No secular pleasure is comparable to the holy magnitude of warmth and joy provided by his grace. He is absolute in every aspect. All manifestations of pain, whether of body or mind, can be wiped clear by his entrance into your heart. I cannot begin to relate the purity of the connection with him. I cannot find the words to describe the sheer depth of his spiritual hospitality. The word limitless is dwarfed by the degree that his love reached. No man, woman, pet, or medium of entertainment can bring you the soulful fulfillment that he can.

The physical world and the unfaithful that live in it are parent of true happiness, bereft of salvation, and have always been devoid of sincere righteousness. Only he, with outstretched hands, can bring you that. sublime state that we all so hungrily crave, regardless of if we believe in him or not. I have felt pain, sorrow, and loss to extents almost intolerable, but by his guide, I have persevered in life. My spirit perpetuates only to spread his gospel so that others may be helped and uplifted through his glorification. He is my best friend. He is my source of stability and path of reason. He is my unwavering and movable anchor against the seas and and piety and sin. Without his companionship, without his love, I would be distraught, unfocused, and

insolent. With the truest aim, he has shot me toward the ultimate state of existence. That bountiful pinnacle of life in which I am replete with his presence. My body is as much a sanctum of his worship as any edifice of man. Even with decades of worship, I cannot begin to offer the necessary gratitude to truly thank him for all he has done in my life. He holds complete sovereignty over my heart. Total supremacy of my faith. My life belongs to him. He enhances it, improves it beyond measure. To give oneself to the Father is to elevate your mind to tears incomprehensible by the decadent nonbelievers. The veal of indulgence and self-obsession will be lifted to show a world in desperate need of his universal presence.

Accept him. Embrace him. Unlatched the encumbrance of selfishness and sinfulness. He is perfection. His grace will rectify our immortality and bring us to his domain. All wickedness will be expunged when we are bathed in the engrossing light. There in the sky, breaching the clouds. Oh, what wondrous elegance a ship of such immensity! Such beatific decorum! I told you he would Raise us from decadence. He has come the Redeemer. Bored quickly, board the ship, so that we may embrace our father. To the kingdom, we sail. This is the end of the story. As you can see, it is fairly unreal in its suggestions, but I assure you it is as true and real as the air you breathe. The section which I have called doxology, the words spoken were words that I heard, clearly, distinctly, despite having the immediate knowledge that they were spoken in some alien tongue. This person, the people of their planet, boarded that mighty vessel, but were lost at cosmic sea. God, in some form, exists, and he tried, really tried, to bring us all to him. But he could not surmount his own inviolable will. He is the immovable object. His divinity is the burden so heavy that he cannot lift it. The question isn't whether or not God exists. The question is, with him

gone, what do we do now? The maddening terror which rides on the heels of that question is what dwarfs all other considerations of horror for me right now. We are without the creator, without the caretaker.

Regardless of how many other intelligent species exist in the universe, without him, we are still woefully alone.