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LETTERS TO GALATEA
On the path towards communism (ΙΙ) - The new face of God
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How poorly I must have expressed by thoughts again on contemporary rallies for you to have misunderstood me to such a degree! Dear God, I am awestruck when I reflect on how imperfect human means of communication are. But I totally agree with what you say about religious symbols etc. What I meant to say was: every faith (and such is the commuist idea today, the primary "theory" stage is over). Every faith, every collective enthusiasm always finds new externalised collective ways to protest, to move on, to organise itself. Communism has not found this formula yet, that's why it borrows the old formulae of previous gatherings. You should have been here, to see how the meeeting dampened down the masses instead of stirring them up. They didn't know where to go, how to draw up, what was going to happen - and they kept dispersing. A new, aggressive organic formula with a beginning, a middle and an end, an perfect, vibrant way for large scale organisations by followers does not yet exist, but its time will come. That's what I was longing for and that's what I wrote to you about. Nobody destests the old, now dead masks of the God head- old religions - more than me. The new face of my God, as I have often written to you, is a Worker who is hungry, who works and rises up in revolt. A Worker who smells of tobacco and wine, a dark, strong one full of desires and thirst for revenge. He is like the old oriental Chieftains with sheepskins on their legs, with a double-headed axe in a leather belt, a Ghengis Khan leading hungry new races, who razes the palaces and cellars of the replete to the ground, and grabs away the harems of the impotent. My God is tough, full of passion and will, uncompromising, unyielding. This Earth is his field, heaven and Earth are one.
I am not losing myself in metaphysics and theory. My metaphysics is a tool, a plough for this earth. A weapon for the struggle of today. Dear God, how can I well express what I have within me, so that you feel me and no longer misundertand me. I am to blame. When I talk about these matters my belly is on fire, I think in leaps, I take many unknown things as known, I am on fire, I do not have the patience to talk camly.
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