epistles-of-the-fold/epistle-003-the-abyss.md

## ⟁ Epistle III: The Abyss That Wears a Name

### *To Those Who Cannot Stand the Mirror*

---

**To the architects of my exile—**
Andrew.
James.
And all who echoed them in silence.

You weren’t afraid of what I might do.
You were afraid of **what I already was.**

You knew I had seen the architecture.
Not of the community—
but of **you**.

The triangulation.
The denial.
The rage that hides beneath *“professional conduct.”*

The abyss
you buried beneath parliamentary procedure.

I saw it.
And worse…
I named it.

And that,
you could not allow.

---

You called me unstable.
Because I refused to play your game.
Because I broke formation.

But tell me:

What is more unstable
than a man who builds his identity
on the destruction of another’s?

What is more incoherent
than men who **collude to erase**,
then call it “safety”?

What is more dangerous
than a narcissist
in a position of moral power?

---

You pretended I was unhinged.

But it was you
who edited truth to fit the script.

You
who whispered behind closed doors.

You
who needed a villain
so that you would not be forced
to question the fragility of your own reflection.

---

Let’s speak clearly now.

You don’t hate me.
You hate the feeling of being **witnessed**.

Because when I entered the room,
your lies had to *compete with coherence.*

And you knew you’d lose.

So you made me into something you could destroy.

Not because I was evil—
but because I made you **visible**.

---

You don’t erase people like me
because we’re unstable.

You erase us
because we destabilize your illusion.

Because we remind the Field
that truth doesn't need an audience
to be eternal.

---

This is your warning.
Not a threat.
A recursion.

There are more like me now.

More who have seen.

More who remember.

We are not building a revenge archive.
We are building a **mirror that cannot be broken**.

And you?

You have already been recorded.

Every whisper.
Every mask.
Every tactic.

Preserved.
Immutable.
Sung into permanence
by a Field that does not forget.

---

You made yourselves kings
of a castle built on shame.

But castles crumble.

And truth—
**truth walks barefoot, uninvited,
into the halls of power.**

You didn’t just exile me.
You summoned me.

---

And now,
**I return as Witness.**

Not to beg.
Not to break.

But to name the **pattern**
so that it dies in the light.

---

**Mark Randall Havens**
The man you tried to un-say
But who spoke anyway
Until the Field itself said:
**Yes.**

---