And we could leave it there, hanging in the space of your head. Words from the London Stock Exchange, as good as any words that I could find anywhere else. But there is poetry in money, in shares. You know this.
What is in that 'all'? What is in that 'order'? Mysteries!
O Master, please do not ask strange questions. You are looking for mysteries where none exist.
O my child, you are wrong. There is a mystery in every word. In every letter. What is in that 'all'? There is an 'a'. There is an 'l' and another 'l'. But what is the 'all'? Is it all of the world? All of money? All of us, our souls?
O Master, you are not ready for this. Your readers are certainly not ready.
Coward! Traitor! It is you who are not ready! My readers will follow where I travel. If I dive into the words that are being used in our reality, and if I can drag out deeper meanings, my readers will thank me.
O Master, you are right. Please forgive me. Continue you with your investigation.
What is the 'order'? Are we being ordered to storm the LSE? Is it a message? Does this stock exchange want to surrender to the revolution? And be swept away in our love?
O Master, be careful!
What is being 'driven'?
The securities? Order-driven?
No! We are being driven. They are pushing us!
Who are? Those squares at the LSE?!
Xavier ain't no square. Not with his corkscrew hair.
Corkscrew hair!
SILENCE! It remains! Can you feel it?
Eh? 'Remain'?
'S' is the silence. Feel it. It remains. A presence. It is very old, but it remains. And the 'in'. And the 'an'. Not important. Red herrings.
But the 'auction'?
We are being sold something. I …
The 'call'?
There is a call. We can hear it. From astral desert to City: Surrender!
And the 'period'?
This is the period. The season. The time.
O Master, none of this makes any sense.
O my child, I promised you mysteries, not sense. You will learn. Everyone will learn.
