My writing, as it advances, is not about evangelism, it’s not about convincing anyone of anything. It’s not even argument in the conventional sense. It’s the articulation of one person’s inner possibility, offered publicly in case it articulates someone else’s as well. The audience is small (and shrinking) not because the writing is obscure or the ideas are difficult (although they are), but because the number of people whose inner possibility takes this specific form (a phenomenological crucifixion between opposite energies seeking coherence to bear it) is small. The audience shrinks as the work becomes more precisely itself because precision narrows the set of constitutions that can receive it. What I am offering is resonance for those who are at the threshold but unable at this time to articulate the underlying beliefs which already inherently exist for them.

This is the structural condition of the work. If I tried to appeal to people whose inner possibility is different by softening the coldness, by adding warmth, by offering consolation, by promising connection, I would be deviating from my path, creating power to produce something other than what my constitution demands, and that unused creative power - the power to articulate the structure as it appears to me in the register it demands - would turn to poison.