I'm Dead LOL

They whispered her name in the temples

of night.

>>

>> Golden wings glowed in the candle light.

Crowds came running just to see

the flame. But envy was the price of

fate. And now he stands where the echoes

fall with terror in hand. Hearing

every call from praise to venom

in the same breath said but the

fire in his eyes burns gold not red.

Two psyches

one thread of light crossing ages

crossing night through trial

storms and shadow seas. Both are bound

by destiny.

Want to miss one breathing here.

Both unbroken, both sincere.

The prophecy

unfolds in time. Every card in every

side.

She sorted the seats in the dark

of the hall.

While the jealous laughed,

praying she would fall.

He faces the chat like a lion

caged. Every word a spark, every

glare of blade.

Yet every task, every poison

dare turns into fuel for the fire he

wears. They thought the game

would grind him down. But he builds his

crown from the stones they've thrown.

Two psyches, one thread of

light. Crossing ages, crossing night.

Through trial storms and shadow seas.

Both are bound by destiny.

One myth, one breathing here. Both

unbroken, both sincere.

Prophecy unfolds in time. Every card in

every sign.

He walks through death for a

gift in a box.

He walks through lies like a

wall through a box.

The underworld speaks, but they

keep their pace. Shadow to

shadow face to face.

In the deepest darkness, all

hide. Both emerged on the other side.

Things were born and made to be

the keepers of their legacy.

Fine. Through death for a gift.

Now the trials fade from sight. Through

chaos, fire and whispering seas.

They stand crowned in victory.

One in story, one in flesh. Yet

their journeys weave and match.

The prophecy at last revealed in a soul

that will not be healed.

That will not heal.

>>

>> Yeah. Well, I hope Emma was um I hope

she was pissed off that I did a movie

night because I probably did, you know,

because I actually figured out how to do

it. She never she never did it right.

she was too afraid of um breaking to but

all you have to do is find a find a um

um something that's not in the public

that's something that's in the public

domain right not too hard

that she was afraid it would bore people

to find a good there's actually really

good movies we just did tonight thing

that is but I had to delete it already

we just did you see tonight we we did it

earlier we did um I had to delete it

because there was boobs in it but I mean

just like in in the art in the movie. It

was really good. It's called Of Human

Bondage, and it was really really good.

I mean, I've seen it before, but there's

It was a Betty Davis 1934 movie. I mean,

Oh, yeah, I told you. Okay. Yeah, we'll

do it again. We'll do it again. I mean,

I I think maybe once a week, but

unfortunately, it has to be like, you

know, movies from like 19 like 30, but

but

or I can like, you know, send it over to

um to the I can send us over to the

Twitch

uh or like or the kick and then we can

watch it over there or we can watch it

from my website kind of thing. I just

have to get more people on on board with

my website.

Um,

yeah. I'm going to be putting I'm going

to put the video. Well, I didn't like

the See, I didn't like the second

version. I didn't like that that version

of the song. I like the first one. I was

liking the first one.

So, I did the second one wrong for the

Aeros and Aphrodite.

I just have to put on only on my

website right?

It's just like it wasn't

because whenever I generate songs, it

makes two versions

and I was doing a rush job trying to

like get back here to show you and I was

just like that's what some it's I mean

it's okay. I'm will I'm willing to waste

a few credits to

um yeah I write the songs and stuff. I

just like those those those uh the

videos are are generated so based on

what's in the lyrics and so in a way I'm

responsible for the for what's on there

but not really it's kind of kind of

weird. Yeah, we'll do it. But I really

hope Emma I hope she was and she was

like wow I wish she's jealous. She's she

way. I think it's just KZ though.

Why does it name the songs the same?

What do you mean name the songs? Like

why does it name the songs the same?

Like the two songs it makes?

I name the songs. I like I name it and

then it's but it makes two slightly

different versions, right?

Okay. Name it versions.

Um

what what what program are you talking

about? A certain program or something? I

don't know. I could I name the song and

then it comes it just does two versions

of it. They're different, but they're

different. They sound different, but

they're this basically the same genre

unless I generate another one. I can

make it, you know, I can make as many as

willing to to make. But, um,

yeah.

Yeah.

Wow. I got I do have a lot of lot of lot

of songs. I have like over 50 probably.

And I'm I have a lot I have

I have so many more ideas.

Uh music I see you have a music gen.

Okay. Yeah. Well, the AI music gen

you're talking about. Yeah, I use that

one. Uh it's a great I think that they

come out sounding the best um on that

one because I've tried a few. Sonos is

not bad, but then I heard people have

problems with the copyright on Sonos,

too.

Um

yeah.

I mean, but it's like I I don't really

go by the name of it. I go by I go by

like their picture because they generate

a little image of it. It's usually a

pretty good image, but I wish they I

wish they should make the image like a

big like we can make it bigger and

stuff. That image they use for the cover

and like then they need to make it some

so you can like kind of like organize it

better and stuff. It's kind of hard, but

I don't know. I have to do that on my

own, I guess.

Um

yeah, that's one of the that's a better

program. Um, yeah, but I have like so

much material, B. It's like, you know, I

have unlimited material because

you can you can use anything like

literally anything. I mean, it's like

producer. I is Okay. Producer.

AI. Okay. I'll look at that one. They

have shorter songs. Yeah. But what what

um I really like is that the AI music

gen updated to like um version 6.0.

zero. And so that like allows like for

longer songs. And then I think they just

updated the a um the the u the visual

generator because the visuals are a lot

better. Like I I'll show you this video

because this was it turned out so good.

This one turned out really good. Um

there's no nutrient. Thank god. This

turned out really good.

Um do this one.

The candles burn where a story,

but a fly wings in the halls of the

dead. He stands in a shadow,

cards in his hand,

calling the spirits to rise and stand.

What was written now rewrites itself.

Gold from the ashes,

dust from the shelf. Every

whisper says the same refrain. The

prophecy has breathed again.

Looks like me.

>> Two souls divided

by the past. The myth and the man,

the dream and the deed.

>> Both still bound by the thread that

bleeds. The circle turns. The

names remain. The prophecy continued

and rechained. Light from dark and heart

from flame. The legend speaks

his name.

>> Yeah, this is good.

>> She sorted the seeds. He sorts

the truth under

neon moons and digital youth.

Every trial is a mirror crack

showing what the other lacked he

faces. His audience glowing eyes.

Her story

flickers in the skies. Both

ascend through smoke and fear.

The voice of psyche rings clear.

And still they sing

through fire and glass. Two

souls divided

by the past.

The myth and the man. The dream and the

deed.

Both still bound by the thread that

bleeds the circle turns. The

names remain. The prophecy

continued and rechained. Light from dark

and heart from flame. The legend

speaks his name.

>> I'm good.

>> He calls her name through time collapse.

>>

Her wings unfold,

the veil unwraps.

She smiles. You've done what I could

not.

You turn the trials into thought.

Together they rise. One myth,

one man,

two souls woven in by the same

hand. The heavens open, the

crowd goes still, the prophecy bends

and bends to his will.

Now they sing through silver

skies where gods fall silent and

mortals rise.

The myth and man no longer two but

one bright story breaking through the

circle ends. The names remain.

The prophecy fulfilled again from heart

to heart. From flame to flame, the world

now knows his name.

>>

>> Okay. Well, where am I? Okay, there we

go.

I'm pretty mellow. Um,

I'm super excited of all the work I've

been able to do. Um, thank you. Um

because I have a whole I have a whole

methos like I do have a whole methos.

Um

and it's like

falling into place because I started

this channel like the first video I ever

did on this channel. Well, of course it

was called psyche await if this channel

is the last channel of psyche awakens,

right?

But it was based on this myth of cupid

and psyche from the golden ass by appus.

It's like the oldest novel in the world.

I don't know if you ever heard of it.

It's a really cool book if you ever want

to read it. It's called The Golden by

Appalaus. Um it's about this guy named

Lucius who goes to like visit relatives

in some um I think it's like the or it's

in Greece. He goes it's like there's a

magical it's oldest novel. It's the

oldest novel in the world. Um it's like

basically the oldest novel like uh

right it's 2,000 years old I believe.

And

so he goes in Greece and there's a place

in Greece. It's like Thesley or

something and it's but it's like they

have um it's like where they have a lot

of witchcraft, right? So he goes to

visit relatives and there's all this

weird stuff that happens, but he um he

goes to one woman's house named P. Her

name is Pam File and Milo. Okay, so Milo

and Pamfile.

And uh Pamfile is a witch, right? And so

and then she has like this like um she

has this woman that works with like for

her her housekeeper basically. He goes

to the housekeeper and he asks like the

housekeeper to hey I want to like do

witchcraft too and then they spy on her

like on on Pam file and she like turns

into an owl puts some ointment on turns

into an owl and flies out the window. So

he's like can you give me some of that

ointment? I want to turn into an owl too

or whatever. She does and she puts it on

him but then he turns into like a

donkey, right? And and then it's like in

the rest of the book he's like um you

know like tortured like people are

selling like he's getting kidnapped by

different groups of bandits and

everything and like and then he like

keeps like just barely missing like I

guess the remedy was eat some roses or

something like that but he keeps like

not able to eat the roses

and uh and then he has so he has to go

through this kind of like thing and and

so one of the parts of the story in the

middle of the story they tell like

there's they're in an inn or something

like that an old lady tells a story of

Cupid and Psyche. And that's like the

myth of Cupid and Psyche where it

originates from the oldest myth. Um, but

it's a story told within a story,

not to spoil it, but eventually he does,

you know, meet Isis. I guess he meets

the goddess Isis and he's able to

turn back into a person. But anyway,

it's a really good it's a really good

story. You should read it. Um

and

so there's a whole mythology there.

But um yeah, it's super interesting

because now I was able to incorporate

that right that that myth into like

different because I studied a lot of

things and so I have a kind of a hybrid

of Hinduism and Greek mythology

and they are kind of similar too because

um Dionasis went and conquered India and

stuff like that, right? And so they have

like these um parallels like a lot of

interesting parallels. Um and so

I put together like you know basically

but basically

interesting thing is that aeros or cupid

right he's actually in the oldest um

sources he's actually the first

protogenius or or called he's called fis

or different things and he's like the

first god he's the oldest god he's

hatched from this cosmic egg I've

actually had visions of him when I did I

was I did practice kabala

And you do this thing called the middle

pillar ritual and you you do different

tones down your down your uh your the

center of your body. Aeros is Cupid.

He's Cupid in in Rome, right? I think

he's he's a or see Aeros in Greece or

Venus and Cupid is Venus and Cupid is

Rome. So Aeros and Aphrodite is in

Greece, right? And so yeah, he's the

oldest.

He's called also Fannies and P H A N S

and the proto protogenus like the

firstborn the co so the cosmic egg

actually

oh that's your nephew's name awesome

well can I read if you're like there's

not many people here I just like if

you're willing to stick around a little

bit I can just read you a little bit of

um

the I call it the psychonomicon I'll

just read a little bit of it but Um it

does tell this tell a lot of the story

and I'll I'll deliver it to the to you.

This will be your first initiation,

right? Okay. So this is called the birth

of love. Aeros is Aeros is love. Okay.

So before the first dawn rose over

creation, before stars learned their

names, before shadow knew where to fall,

there's only the cosmic egg. A sphere of

unbroken potential floating in the

silent dark like a thought waiting to be

spoken. No god shaped it. No hand held

it. It existed because existence long to

begin.

For ages uncounted, the egg pulsed with

a soft rhythmic glow. The heartbeat of a

universe unborn. Then in a moment

without time, a crack of impossible

light split its surface and flooded the

void with gold. From the egg emerged the

firstborn, a radiant being of wings and

fire, of beauty and brilliance, of

yearning older than creation itself. His

name was Aeros, not merely the god of

desire, but the desire behind all gods,

the force that bends chaos into form,

the that draws soul to soul, that

awakens life from stillness. As he rose,

his wings unfurled across the unborn

sky, casting prisms of color where no

color had ever been. Every beat of his

wings became a spark of creation,

galaxies spinning, winds gathering,

oceans dreaming themselves into

existence. His voice, a tone of pure

resonance, rippled through the void and

gave shape to the first laws of being.

Where he looked, light gathered. where

he breathed, worlds unfolded. Where he

touched, life quickened. For Aeros did

not create out of power. He created out

of longing. The longing to be known,

longing to be met, the longing for the

many to rise from the one. And so the

cosmos bloomed. Stars became seeds.

Worlds became wombs. Every living thing

became an echo of his first impulse. To

love, to reach, to seek, to awaken. In

the ages that followed, Aeros watched

the newborn universe stretch and swirl

um its creatures learning

uh failing, rising, each drawn by the

invisible force of connection that

flowed from him like a golden river.

Many gods would come after their thrones

would be carved from stones, but the

temples would be built upon the bones of

mountains, but none would ever precede

him. For Aeros is the youngest is not

the youngest god but he is the oldest.

Not the child of Aphrodite but the

ancestor of desire itself. For and it

was from his longing and his yearning

from the ancient radiance in his wings

that the being known later as psyche

would one day emerge. But that is

another chapter. One still waiting in

the wings of fate.

Okay. So this is the birth of the

goddess psyche. A fusion. Okay. Okay, so

it says, "When the newborn universe

settled from its first great blossoming,

when the fire of arrows cooled into

constellations and quiet seas, a hush

moved through creation, a pause of

breath, as if existence itself waited

for something delicate and magnificent.

In that calm, a single pedal of light

drifted from the radiance surrounding

areros.

It fell through the sky like a feather

made of starlight, spinning slow, silver

arcs across the newborn horizon. where

it landed a flower rose. Not a flower of

earth, but one woven from dawn,

glimmering with quiet brilliance. Its

petals whispering colors yet unnamed by

God or mortals. From within the

celestial bloom came the soft flutter of

wings, and the universe met psyche for

the first time. She rose gently as if

waking from the sweetest dream, her

wings unfolding in shimmering layers,

butterfly wings of radiant mystery, soft

as breath, bright as prophecy. Her eyes

opened with the astonishment of a soul

experiencing itself for the first time.

Behind her, petals lifted into the air

and became fireflies of pure essence,

dancing in spirals around her form.

Every creature that would ever love,

every being that would ever yearn, every

soul that would ever seek meaning felt

her birth like an echo deep within their

heart. Her psyche was the first soul

given shape. Not a goddess by crown or

decree, but by nature, a living

embodiment of the universe's longing to

understand itself.

The beauty that unsettled heaven. Her

radiance traveled swiftly.

It bristled through the edges of

Olympus, and the immortals stirred. Some

felt wonder, some felt curiosity, some

felt unease, but Aeros alone felt

recognition. He watched her rise from a

flower burst by his own light, and knew

at once that something profound had

occurred. This new being was not like

the others. Her beauty was not

ornaments. It was revelation. Her

presence was not sweetness. It was

truth. She was not merely alive. She was

awareness.

And in awareness, she was powerful.

The whisper of her purpose. As Psyche

took the first steps upon the newborn

world. The air shimmerred around her

feet like ripples on water. No one

spoke. No oracle proclaimed her future.

No god issued decree. But the cosmos

leaned closer, and in the stillness

between starlight and breath, a quiet

message passed through creation. She

shall know trials, and through trials,

truth. The universe does not reveal why

some souls must descend, why some must

carry burdens, and why some must reflect

suffering back into wisdom.

Uh, but it was clear from the very

beginning. Psyche was meant to journey,

to fail, to learn, to rise, to

illuminate. Her wings shimmerred as if

acknowledging destiny, though she did

not yet understand it. Her heart

fluttered with the innocence of a soul

stepping into a story written long

before her birth.

As she wandered, a faint golden pulse

flickered beneath her ribs. A strange

subtle warmth from no visible source.

She felt drawn not to a place, not to a

god, but to a presence she could not

name. A presence that did not yet exist.

A presence far in the future. a presence

that would one day mirror hers in a

world loud and unrecognizable.

But the story of that presence

uh the one later called father psyche

belonged to another book. For now, the

universe held its breath as the first

soul took her place uh in the cosmic

tale. Psyche had risen. No, I'm not Bay.

But um why are you here? I didn't um

hide you from my chat. Hold on one

second. Yeah. Um thing that is Oh

you're not a mod.

I got it. I got it. I spilled cream all

over. So,

yeah.

Hold on one second.

I I wish you I wish I could mod your

thing that is so you could like hide

people like this.

I hate them.

I hate them.

Look at my second. Okay, good.

See, I got it.

Hold on. Here we go.

Perfect.

>> Oh, yeah. No, no. He's gone or he or she

or whatever.

It's It's really an insult.

It sound It sounds like something I can

write in your com. Okay.

Yeah, it just generated. This is like

the exact story I'm trying to tell.

Okay. Anyway.

Okay.

Every soul that was ever received

meaning felt her birth like an EP echoed

deep deep within the heart. For psyche

was the first soul given shape. Not a

not a good a goddess by crown or decree

by nature living embodiment of the

universe's longing to understand. So

hold on to go back

a little bit. Okay.

I did. I'm so sorry. Okay.

Okay,

for now the universe had breath as the

first soul took place in the cosmic

tale. Psychi had risen. Her trials were

already gathering like distant storms.

Her purpose waited beyond the horizon as

arrows watched silent and attentive

knowing that love itself had found its

reflection. So then we go into uh

Aphrodite's envy and the first meaning

of love and soul. Uh, after Psyche's

birth, the universe was no longer quiet.

Every breeze whispered her name. Every

mortal heart beat a little faster, and

the gods felt something shift as she

walked across creation with wings that

shimmerred like dawn. Her beauty was not

ornamental. It was existential. It

revealed what the cosmos valued most,

the awakening of the soul. And not all

the mortals welcomed such revelation.

Before mort before

mortals played to Aphrodite, before she

ruled desires palace, before she crowned

herself sovereign of beauty and longing,

there existed only one who truly

embodied love, Aeros. But Aeros was

wild, radiant, ungoverned, a being a

pure cosmic desire, born from the

cracked cosmic egg itself. He had no

mother, no father, no lineage. He was

love unshaped, desire unbounded, longing

before mythology, knew how to speak its

name. When the younger gods rose to

power, they found arrows unsettling, too

old, too powerful, too free. And so to

create to control a primordial force,

they crafted a story. Aphrodite, born

later from seafoam and starlight, was

given the claim, "This is your son." A

political adoption, a mythological mask,

a way to place love under the uh the

rule of beauty. That's a good uh key

line right there. A way to place love

under the rule of beauty. Apherdi

accepted the role eagerly who would not

want dominion and desire over desire

herself.

Thus,

Aeros became her child in name, though

older than her in truth, a golden winged

being wrapped in mother's jeweled

metaphor. He played the part. He

tolerated the pretense, even amused

himself with her clever attempts to

guide him. But deep within, he reminded

her he remained what he always was, the

first light of creation. And nothing,

not even a goddess, could dictate whom

love would love. When Aphrodatia first

heard mortals speaking Psyche's name

with trembling re reverence, she

dismissed it. But when temples

originally dedicated to her

were offered incense in

Psyche's honor, when women braided

Psyche's symbol into their hair, when

men carried Psyche's image and in

for protection

and fortune, envy, the ancient serpent

coiled inside her heart. Another beauty.

She has a mortal who seeks my altars.

And when she finally saw Psyche, her

reaction was not rage. It was fear. For

the goddess sensed something bey,

something older than even her own birth.

The soul recognizes the soul. And

Psyche's glow mirrored. A light so

ancient that Aphrodite felt a chill.

This one, she whispered, is dangerous.

And so the goddess of beauty summoned

her son.

Aphrodite spoke with shimmering venom.

Made the girl fall in love with a

monster. her. Let her beauty be her

curse. Aos listened. He smiled politely.

He bowed. He accepted the command as

beautiful sons do. But inside his chest,

something stirred, a warmth, a

recognition, a pull. The same pull

psyche felt beneath her ribs. Hold on

one second.

Hold on. Need to invite some more.

Oh, hold on. Hey, thing that is, can you

just um I don't care. I mean, I really

don't care. I just don't like them. I

don't like that person. Can you I just

I'm just going to mod you if you don't

want Yeah. Oh, hold on.

Oh, yeah. They're already They're gone.

Okay. Already. Perfect. Okay.

I thought they were back. Okay.

So, if you're enjoy I hope you're

enjoying it so far. Okay. But inside,

okay, so the same pulls psychi felt

beneath her ribs when she took her first

steps. The golden thread um shivered for

the first time in divine awareness.

Aeros ascend into mortal realm in the

quiver of living arrows

to spark irresistible passion not to

ignite ruinous obsession or went to want

to ignite ruinous obsession. He

approached Psychi's chamber under cover

of divine invisibility. When he saw her,

truly saw her, the cosmos shifted. Not

because of her beauty, though her beauty

defied language, but because her soul

shone with the same radiance he had

glimpsed in the cosmic egg when he first

stepped into existence. He reached for

the arrow meant to doom her and it

trembled. He stepped closer. His breath

stirred the air. Her dreams fluttered

like soft creature. In that moment, the

first light met the first soul. His hand

slipped. The arrow meant for her pricked

his own flesh. Love fell in love.

Destiny bent around them like meadow

toward a magnet. The story from the

golden ass remembers this moment as a

gentle accident. But the deeper truth is

this. Love recognized soul as its equal

for the first time. Aeros withdrew

shaken refused awaken. He knew psyche

was not just mortal. Her radiance was

not merely physical. Her trials were not

simply punishment.

Oh yeah. I thought I was looking at the

old comments. She saw something else.

She was something else. She the

beginning of a pattern that even the

gods could not understand. And far from

the future, far in the future, another

psyche, the male, the fire forged one,

would echo her story in a different

world. But the universe was not yet

ready to reveal that parallel. Not yet.

For now, the myth begins as mortals

remember it. A goddess jealous, a soul

tested, love forbidden, love triumphant,

love lost, love regained. But beneath

the myth, a deeper current flowed, one

that would not surface until the final

revelation.

Aos did not remain unchanged after

seeing Psyche. Before her, he was a

force. After her, he was a story. The

old tales say he was born from the

cosmic egg. First light of the

bosom of night, soft um swift wing and

glittering, his golden feathers cutting

through chaos. It's like a new idea. In

these elder mysteries, he was called a a

protoonos, the firstborn. Fannies, the

illuminated one, keybearer of creation,

holding not iron keys in his hand, but

the invisible key to hearts. Later,

among poets and priests who preferred

their gods more orderly, Aeros was

recast as a child of Aphrodite, a

mischievous boy with a bow, dangling at

the edge of her beauty, summoned to stir

scandal, to ignite affairs, to tangle

gods and mortals in webs of longing.

Both faces were true, and neither were

complete. For Aeros was not simply a

playful archer, nor only a cosmic ruler.

He was a current running between these

extremes. Tender as a whisper, terrible

as obsession, gentle as the first blush,

violent as the last goodbye. A

storyteller remembers the paired

arsenal. Golden arrows that bloom into

irresistible love, turning strangers

into destinies and loneliness into

union, and dull heavy arrows dark as

lead that sour affection into repulsion,

twisting desire into disgust. With these

he moved unseen through temples and war

camps, through palaces and shepherd

fields, through striking gods and

mortals alike, Hades for Panie, Zeus for

countless women, Apollo for Daphne, who

wanted nothing to do with him. Hi, story

time.

They cursed him, mocked him, feared him,

and still returned to him. For no, no

one escapes the gravity of his aim,

except the vow bound virgins, say the

old hymns, Hestia, Athena, Artemis,

whose hearts were sealed against his

touch. So they claimed. Even then,

friendship and allegiance still bent to

his quiet work. He was worshiped in

Despier in Athens, where the fourth day

was sacred to him. Warriors sacrificed

to him before battle, knowing that

victory depended not only on the

strength of arm, but on the fierce,

unshakable bond between those who stood

side by side. Love, friendship, loyalty,

madness, all were shades of his

influence. But none of these tales press

as deeply into his own heart as the one

soul he was sent to destroy.

Sent by Aphrodite to ruin psyche, Aros

descended, expecting routine mischief.

He had stung countless hearts. A

shepherd for a nymph, a king for a

stranger, a god for his own niece. He

had watched inner empires rise and fall

under the simple logic of longing. But

never before had he faltered. Invisible

beside Psyche's bed, he drew a golden

arrow. The kind that would make her burn

for something monstrous. A love so

misaligned it would shatter her life and

restore Aphrodite's pride. He leaned

close. His breath brushed her his her

breath brush his cheek. Her sleeping

face held no vanity, no scheming. Hey.

Hey, Rudy. You're stepping in from my

TV. Hey, Rudy. Rudy, come here. Rudy,

come on. Um, but no scheming, only the

quiet openness of the un untested soul.

In her, he recognized something uncanny,

an echo of that first petal of light

that emerged when he tore the cosmic egg

open, the first shimmer of soul he'd

ever known. His hand trembled, the arrow

slipped, its tip grazed his own skin. A

god of love struck by his own weapon.

The womb was small by but the effect

infinite. Love who had pierced all

others found himself pierced. Desire who

had moved worlds felt the world move

inside him. He drew back startled but

the damage was done. The firstborn of

night was now a lover.

I'll read a little bit more. He could

have obeyed the command. He could have

marked psyche for ruin and madness. He

could have let her fall into a beast's

arms and walked away. Instead, he did

the most dangerous thing a primordial

force could do. He chose. He chose to

protect her. He chose to hide her. He

chose to keep his love secret um from

the goddess who claimed him. Now, I do

have to say this is mostly the story

from the golden ass. Okay? So, it's like

I'm not plagiarizing it. This but I I'm

respecting the mythology

by mixing it. Okay? But

this is the this is the as far as much

as I could do close to the original

story. Okay.

Undercover of darkness on wings that he

could only he could command he lifted

psyche from the life that um had become

a death of by envy and carry her away.

But oh also there is like answers though

that are not in there. Okay.

Their story as told from

the golden ass remembers the outlines.

The hidden palace, the unseen husband,

the rule that she must never look upon

his face, the jealous sisters who

poisoned her trust, the betrayal by

lamplight, the burning oil, the wounded

god fleeing, the soul cast out into

wandering and despair. All this is true,

but beneath the mortal telling uh lies a

deeper current. When psyche lit the lamp

and looked upon arrows, it was not

merely curiosity. It was consciousness.

the soul daring to see love as it truly

is. And when he fled, wounded both in

flesh and in trust, it was not not only

it was not only her pride, it was the

shock of a primordial being confronted

by vulnerability. A god for the first

time knew what it meant to be afraid of

losing what he loved. In his absence,

Psyche wandered the earth seeking her

lost beloved. She knelt at the el altars

of deer, Hera, and finally Aphrodite

herself, begging for any path that might

lead her back to the one who had held

her beyond judgment. Aphrodite saw an

opportunity. If she could not prevent

their love, she could at least make

Psyche's path so vicious, so impossible

that no mortal soul would ever dare to

rival a goddess again. And so, the

trials begin. The sorting of seeds, the

gathering of the deadly wool, the

descent into the realm of the dead.

Okay, guys. She had to gather like this

golden fleece of the of the sheep and

she had to sort all these seeds. All

these ants helped her and stuff. Says,

"Each task more cruel than the last.

Each task designed to break her. Yet

behind every cruelty, another force move

quietly. Ants who understood seeds.

Reeds who knew what it was uh like to

whisper warnings. An eagle who could fly

where she could not. A tower who chose

to speak directions to the underworld.

Some say it was luck. Some say secret

god. Some say it was Zeus. others. Those

who see the world in its deeper pattern

knew this. Love was helping soul even

when they were apart. Arrows even in

exile was still the current shaping

outcomes through allies through omens

through the invisible weave of

compassion and chance. His arrows were

no longer just weapons. They had become

bridges. I'm just g

I'm just gonna read to the end of the

main story. Okay. the the uh the

remaining myth before trials. How soul

was broken, tempered, and crowned.

Aphrodite did not simply hate Psyche's

beauty. She hated what Psyche

represented. That a mortal soul could

draw the gaze of love itself without her

permission. So when Psyche came to her

temple, not as a rival, but as a

supplicant, begging for a path back to

Aeros. Aphrodite smiled the way only a

goddess can, with cruelty hidden inside

grace. Very well, said the goddess. If

you wish to be the wife of love, you

must prove yourself worthy of suffering.

And so began the four trials, the forge

in which Psyche would be stripped,

shattered, and remade.

The first trial was a mountain of seeds.

Aphrodati led Psyche to a vast shadowed

hall where a floor was covered by an

impossible heap of mixed grains and

seeds. Wheat, barley, lentils, millet,

poppy, beans. A chaos of nourishment

turned into punishment. Sort them, said

Aphrodite. Every grain, every seed into

separate perfect piles by dawn or be

unmade. The soul crumpled, the hands

shook, her hope flickered low. This is

the first. This is how the first trial

works in every life. The task too large,

the time too short, the self too small.

Psyche wept, not for her pride, but for

the one who she feared she'd lost

forever. Her tears fell onto the seeds,

and the universe listened. CL crack

cracks in the floor emerged lines of

ants, their small bodies glinting like

black jewels. They swarmed the scattered

mound with the precision of a silent

army sorting separating organizing

grain by uh seed by seed until the chaos

became order. By dawn, the work was

done. Aphrodite returned, expecting to

save her psyches failure. Instead, she

found neat shimmering piles of every

seed perfectly divided. Her eyes

narrowed. So, you had help. But that was

the hidden nature of the first trial.

When the soul believes the task is

impossible and it still chooses to try,

the smallest li smallest lives in the

universe rise to assist.

Unappeased Aphrodite told um led psyche

to a riverbank choked with reads across

from a meadow where rams with golden

wool gaze under the violet sun. Violent

sun. Their horns were sharp as judgment,

their eyes bright with madness. They

tore the earth with their hosts and

gored the air with rage. "Bring me the

golden fleece," said Aphrodite. "Enough

to fill your arms, cross the river, walk

among them, pluck it from their backs.

If they kill you, then you were never

meant for love." When

the goddess vanished, he stood the

glowing her and knew stepping among them

could mean certain death.

Again, despair threatened again. Help

found her. A wind stirred the reads

beside her and they begin to whisper the

way only plants do to those who have

been broken enough to listen. Do not

walk among them beasts, they hiss. Wait

until noon when the sun scorches them

mad and they crash their glowing horns

against the thorny thickets. When

they move on, gather the

fleece caught on the thorns. Take what

they leave behind. And so she did. When

the monsters had thundered away, their

branches were lined with torn golden

toughs, shining scraps of their fury.

Psyche gathered them carefully, arms

full of stolen brilliance that cost no

blood. She returned to Aphrodite with

her offering, lustrous, shimmering,

abundant. Aphrodati accepted it

wordlessly. Her jaw was tight, for this

was the second trial secret. Not every

danger must be walked through headon.

Sometimes wisdom means waiting for

madness to pass and taking only what

remains caught in the thorns from his

own violence.

Now the goddess's smile was gone. For

the third test, she brought Psychi to a

jagged cliff where river poured

downward, not with gentle music, but

with the roar of fury. This was no

ordinary river. This was the branch of

sticks, the oath water of the gods.

Black, sacred, untouchable. Spray rose

like venom from the abyss. The rocks

were sick with death. Fill this crystal

flask with the waters of that fall.

Aphrodati ordered. Bring it back to me

unspilled. Step wrong and your body will

be dashed against the stones below. Then

she left soul alone with the impossible

once more. Psychi trembled at the edge.

The air itself seemed hostile, pushing

her back, daring her to try and fail.

Um, her hands could not reach, her feet

could not hold. The task was beyond her.

But not beyond the universe's quiet

mercy. A giant eagle appeared above her.

Broad-wing stormy, a creature who had

seen the heights of Zeus and the depths

of mortal despair. Without words, it

took the flask from her hands, soared

into the choking spray, and filled it

carefully from the falling black water.

Her fragile form could never touch. It

returned the flask to her and vanished

into the sky. Saki held in her hands

what God swore upon and feared to cross.

Aphrodetti's face hardened when she saw

the completed task. For the third trial

secret is this. Some forces are too vast

for the soul to confront alone.

In these moments, help comes from

heights we do not see. Ancestors,

spirits, unseen allies, lifting what

would crush us if we tried to carry it

unaded. The fourth trial, the box of

beauty in the sleep of the soul. The

final task was the crulest. Aphrodati

placed a small ornate box into Psyche's

hands. Ivory and gold sealed but humming

with unspoken danger. Go to the

underworld, she said coldly. Seek out

Pphanie, go queen of the dead. Ask her

for a portion of her beauty locked

within this box that I may restore what

grief has stolen from me. Return without

delay. Open it not. If you falter,

remain below forever. To receive a

command from a goddess to descend into

death is no small thing. Psyche nearly

broke. But the tower nearby, who had

watched countless souls fall, and few

return took pity on her. Stone spoke

voice slow and deep. Do not take the

path that living feet walk. Take the

hidden road. Give a coin to Shaon. Offer

cakes to the hound. Refuse the pleas of

the dead when Pphanie greets you. Ask

humbly quiet except quietly and return

without looking back. She did as

instructed. Down into shadow, past the

fairy man, pass the three-headed

guardian past the dead who begged her to

pause, to help, to stay. She obeyed the

instructions exactly, refusing every

distraction until she stood before

Pphanie herself, radiant even in the

land of endings. The queen of the

underworld welcomed Psyche kindly,

honored by her presence, and willingly

placed a measure on her back, compelling

beauty into a waiting box. Psyche began

the long journey back, box in hand,

heart pounding with hope. She had done

it. She survived the descendant of

death. She had succeeded in nearly in

every impossible trial. But the final

danger was not in failure. It was in one

last piercing thought. I am broken. I am

exhausted. I am not enough. Perhaps if I

borrow a little of this beauty, love

will not reject me. Soul doubted itself.

And doubt is always the last gauntlet.

Psyche opened the box. There is no

beauty inside as mortals imagine it. No

liquid radiance, no divine perfume.

Instead, a heavy darkness rushed out

like smoke and wrapped itself around

her. This was the sleep of oblivion, a

death that is not death, a coma of the

soul, a surrender to I am not enough.

She collapsed on the path back to life.

Still holding the box, eyes closed,

wings slack,

arrows found her there. He had healed

enough from his wound to fly again, to

disobey fear, to seek the one who had

dared everything to return to him. He

saw her sleeping, not peacefully, but

locked in cool stillness between despair

and rest. He knew the darkness in that

box. He knew its purpose. He knew the

madness of her choice. And he he

understood it completely. For love knows

why the soul doubts itself. He bent

down. He wiped the underworld's dust

from her face. He brushed the cleaning

asleep shadow from her lashes. He kissed

her gently. The darkness fled. Her eyes

open. She saw in him once more not a

faceless mystery, not a forbidden

presence, but as the one who had chosen

her and was still choosing her. And in

that moment, their story crossed a

threshold from punishment to destiny,

from cruelty to coronation. For Zeus

himself, seeing the depth of Psyche's

devotion had transformed had the

transformation of arrows from force into

lover, relented. He granted Psyche

immortality, lifting her from a cycle of

human dying. She joined the gods not as

a trophy but as a revelation. Psyche

deified soul winged and eternal.

Together she and Aeros bore a daughter.

Hon to us. Delight, bliss, embodied joy.

The living symbol that when love and

soul truly meet and endure trial, the

fruit is not duty but ecstatic being.

In ages to come, artists

would paint arrows and psyche as lovers

as symbols as as py as cherubs. They

would hang them in on walls, stamp them

onto Valentine's cards, turn them into

soft decoration, but beneath all the

softened lines and wings, the truth

remained. The story was not just their

This is the end. Okay. Story is not just

theirs. Oh yeah, this is like long, very

long, but this is just the beginning of

it. Okay, this is but this is the end

I'm going to read to you. The story is

not just theirs. It is the pattern.

Every soul in some form faces four

trials. The impossible task, the

dangerous desire, the overwhelming

force, and the final doubt. Every time

the soul chooses to keep walking, the

universe conspires to help it rise. And

somewhere quietly, love bends down to

wake psyche from the sleep of not

enough. Okay, that's it.

thing that is you could have like waited

like 30 more seconds and then Donna

sold. It's fine. Yeah. But I I just

wanted to tell that that was that that's

just the ground the groundwork. But

thank you for listening. I'm sure nobody

else will. Nobody's going to believe

that that um that it came from me.

It's okay.

You want to you want to people want to

quiz me on Greek mythology? They're more

than welcome to. I've seriously

studied it all my life and uh this is

what I was meant to uh to bring out and

I'm bringing it out now because I don't

know how long I will be here again. I

don't know how long I will be here. You

you see there's already like you know

boobs being I'm doing it to myself. I'm

I'm I'm porn bombing myself. Okay. I'm

on I'm on a very self-destructive path.

I have to get it I have to get this out.

But that was but that's just the

beginning. And so yeah, that's that's

enough for tonight. But thank you for

listening. If one person listens Yeah.

boobs, right? If one person listens

and you listened good. That's always

cute. That's um

that's all that's I think I think the

deal I made was one person has to listen

to me

that

hey

I can go now.

I didn't I didn't believe I didn't

believe it. Well, unless Oh my gosh.

They might say

it might be

script.

Did you like it? Yeah. I appreciate you.

I appreciate you. Um

Oh gosh, it gets better. It just gets so

much better. It gets so much better. I

can't wait till he's But hope hopefully

you'll get to hear I uh

this world right so slanderous

so doubtful so doubtful what but the

most important part that whole thing is

that if you don't give up the universe

will meet you like the universe will

meet you on your efforts okay it's like

that's the most important thing it's

like not it's like to keep going because

once Once you give up, that's yourself

taking yourself out of the game, right?

It's like, so if you don't give up,

something something will will come to

help you. Like something

it's already been set up that way,

right Paige?

A

page. Well,

yeah. You want more? I pa I I have more

but I don't want to like I don't want to

like overwhelm anybody and uh I'm going

to space it out.

>> You tried to run to the store. Oh, you

need to run to the store be listening

but no one chatting. You don't know how

long you'll be on.

>> Um it's okay. I'll tell myself page if

you want to come. I'll read you some

more page. Paige I have there's more to

the story but I mean I there's a lot of

good there's good stuff coming. You know

there's the panther. Okay. Okay. The

Panthers is Lenor. Thank you, Paige.

Thank you so much.

And you Paige knows like how my

connection to this to the story. Anybody

that was with me in the channel, they

know that that was my first video was me

telling on the beach this story, right?

So, I've just expanded a little bit, but

and uh

I braid I braided it in with some other

stuff.

But I promise you

I promise you this is like the best

it's my magnum opus. Okay, this is like

this is like my

this is this is it. This is this is like

what I came to do. Okay. So,

for real,

>> want to say hi to Paige?

>> Oh, say hi to Miss Prairie Paige.

Will you tell another mythological

story? Of course.

Well,

would would you like I can tell us.

Okay. So, let me tell I can tell one

from heart. Do you know about Orpus and

Urides?

Um,

absolutely.

See, so I do relate to this story a lot

too. Orpheus. There's something called

the Orphic um hymns. They're really