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Updated: May 20, 2025
"So you pretend to begrudge me this perfected feeling, this verification, that I'll carry back with me!" He told her that over there he would build a perfect similacrum of her out of his thoughts, as an enchanter might form at will in the twinkling of an eye the likeness of some one who was far away.
Now and again Hamoud, a robed figment always beside her, addressed her in an unintelligible language. "Dying. Dying. Dying." Too late, perhaps, even for that last embrace of glances, that moment of pardon and love which was all that she had asked. Closed eyes, sealed lips, a similacrum to mock her will, left behind by the spirit that had gone where she and the safari could not follow.
It is the "similacrum" of the body, and is often mistaken for the immortal part, the enfranchised spirit. But the spirit is generally unawakened and can only grow with the pabulum of spiritual influence, in harmony with spiritual law. It is this that complicates this life and retards the at-one-ment of the greatest of all trinities; body, soul and spirit, the natural three in one.
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