[Commentary: This section is written by Roan with help from the Investigator and describes an inner state of mind that sets the stage. Although it may lead some to farther doubt Roan's story, it is necessary to understanding this complex phenomena.]
Roan sat beside a river with sunlight sparking on the water and birdsong filling the fresh air, slipping into meditation through inner peace and calm; opening the gate at the center of his being and connecting as one with the all. Many would fantasize of the moments of epiphany and revelation accompanying enlightenment, imagining heavenly pleasures, but Roan heard screams of horror and felt the writhing of the pain of the masses of humanity and the dyeing throes of countless species trampled under the machine. Oh to be a healer, how glorious; but Roan felt the many long arms of those rich with power who uncompassionately control the masses with hidden schemes for a future of their design and malice for any who would interfere.
Roan was bright, but could barely make a living in the chaos of the dark technological dream space. True art was passed aside for the debauchery that would continue to enslave the masses. Running just a hair's breadth in front of the long arm of the corrupt law, which was cleverly crafted to ensure the status quo and enslave or imprison all free thinking souls into material nightmares. Veterans of the endless psychic wars were worn down and exhausted into post traumatic indifference and apathy, as the living planet tried to scream bloody murder, but could not utter a sound loud enough for the masses to hear the call.
Under the ground, behind the mists in the air, endless hordes of hungry ghosts were fighting a war to find a birthplace, lusting for a chance in the flesh amid the flooding seas that were pounding on the dam in a final countdown to the harvesting of souls. Vain in their useless illusions, they would surround the sensual living, drinking in what they could, while the organic beings tried with all their will to deny their flesh, in their illusions imagining some freedom from corporeal bondage, while their flesh was their most divine gift. The wheel turns the living into the dead and the dead into the living, in endless spirals as the spin doctors of illusion cast out lullabies of stability and static reality of something to hold on to: false promises lulling the living until they pass again into the shadows of death.
Journey through the desert of the world: under the spines of the cactus hides a green slimy bitter juice that is said to hold enough moisture to survive. It is so rank that it gags and requires the strongest human will to choke down. With the specter of death waiting patiently for every living form, the prey will act in ways inconceivable to the sane and complacent. Oh, for a glass of cool clear sparkling water. Wanting more that to survive, wanting to be fully alive; dreaming of the oasis.
Bombarded by the world and seeking shelter, Roan began his first sexual relationship with the Blue Queen. She was cruel and self centered, seeking to change Roan into one of the walking dead. Life turned into constant psychological battle, another layer of horror upon the fragmented threads of maintaining. Looking everywhere for release and in desperation willing to dance with death for an answer.
Then the living star shines down its light and Roan is laid bare: naked to the soul. Nothing to hide and every thought and action revealed. Stark reality of being diverted and perverted comes crashing in. A mind dedicated to walking in the light, with hidden demons that just won't die. A brilliant loser, a creative genius locked in a spiraling fall from grace. Roan finds himself nowhere: back at the beginning and needing to start over yet again. Broken and crushed, yet still connected by a delicate golden thread to the Source, the divine light that pervades the universe. Humbled and wanting to know; lifting himself from the dust, sharing these tales, and hoping others will share to unravel this most perplexing affair.
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