[43.14] And surely to our Lord we must return.
The psychoanalyst and the Tailorite Soof agree here: “we” are the 10 orbs of Elohim, in fantasy fragmentation, a fragmentation within the matter of the subject’s existence, crystallized around the necessary implication, unnamable unity, Adonai, the Lord.
[43.15] And they assign to Him a part of His servants; man, to be sure, is clearly ungrateful.
The fantasy fragmentation engenders a fantasy unity, and therefore degrades into the paranoia of imbalance – too much of the left, too much of the right. This is born from an anxiety, not of fragment worship, but of the fantasy’s source, a deeper repressed preceeding lineage (poetic lineage, of preceding godesses/worlds/poems/religions) which is manifested as paranoia of the fragments worshipping succession itself, the child goddess.
[43.16] What! has He taken daughters to Himself of what He Himself creates and chosen you to have sons?
[43.17] And when one of them is given news of that of which he sets up as a likeness for the Beneficent God, his face becomes black and he is full of rage.
[43.18] What! that which is made in ornaments and which in contention is unable to make plain speech!
“He” and “you” and “them” are the same entity – or rather you and your Demiurgic shadow, you and your wandering paranoid drives. He speaks first as lord, above the action in the initiating rhetorical question, but then as a crystallized fantasy, a fallen Lord/Adam, one of “them” in the succeeding verse, a degrading fall from rhetoric to pathological image. A man in the waiting room of a maternity ward. “Congratulations, Mr God, its a girl.” The Demiurge as a materialized vision of the self in ideal unity: its worst nightmare is children, the child orbs. And the worst orb is the daughter orb, as she has the power of the True Father in Heaven, speech in evasion, capitalist speech to disrupt and bankrupt the whole circuit of unity-paranoia. His face becomes black when he receives news of this underlying currency, the daughters of market economics, chaos, the inner and outer.
Free speech, the evasive speech of ornamentation, speech of the Real, the speech of an Ornette Coleman: this is the daughter feared here, “born” as she is of a fantasy far more ancient, primordial, before creation (of the poem!): the whispers of YHWH as Father in lovemaking with the Mother of the Void.