I haven't written anything like this... not really.

We are what we seem to be. An honest man is perceived honest, not by the absoluteness of his words, but by the appearance of their sincerity. For man is not God, his judgments are not inscrutable. His mind knows not the heart and the underlying principle. Perception is not reality, but for man, it might as well be. This is not to say that the truth is without consequence, but that the perception is not perceived by the rational man. Man is both rational and irrational, but it is his perception that is a rational aspect of him. He demands that the Absolute appear rational, yet it does not. Reason does not stir all men to see this Absolute. Else all men would hold to the True Religion, or at least acknowledge its verity. But perception in man is the flaw, not the rationality of the Absolute. We are willing to admit that man is flawed, but unwilling to believe that there is a Truth which we cannot properly perceive. There is a veil between Truth and reality as we know it. We have had prophets and texts as mediators, hearing whispers from the other room. And even the Maker of the veil, who walks on both sides, is not perceived. Why? If it is in the plan of the Creator of reality, Truth, and veil, for men to perceive, then why do we not? Some claim to, some are honest in their conviction, others are charlatans, and yet we have no guarantee, no rationalization beyond unreasoned faith.
Reality is both sides of the veil, and mortal lives cannot behold its entirety. When reality lies before us, unveiled, all will be. Intuition will cease, with it, doubt, fear, and darkness itself. Perception and reason too, will die, for they will no longer be needed. The Unfathomable will be laid bare for us. Different angles, different points of perception simply will cease. All will be.
Here, on the dark side of the veil, we look at the sun, eclipsed with dark curtains, and we burn our eyes. We see visions, mirages in the searing light around the curtains’ edges. We play children’s games with the messages of the Whisperers. And we so often lose most of the message. Then we plug our ears with wax, for fear of failure. We cover our faces to protect our eyes in the vain hope that the searing light will become dimmer so that we might see. We hope for some darkened reflection to comfort us in our anger and despair. But we are the ones who have made ourselves deaf and blind. We turn away from the eclipse and enjoy the painless darkness.
But when the veil is lifted, and that searing light burns in its entirety—revealing Reality—our eyes, used only to the darkness we fled to, will be overwhelmed, and we will seek to gouge them out for relief. The heat will melt the wax in our ears, and we will find the Whisperers shouting in one thundering voice, and we will seek to impale our eardrums with spikes to stop the pain of their proclamation.
Our perceptions are what they seem to be—Infinite, but not God. We have already been divided. But when it is lifted, we will all see both sides of the veil, and will gape in unreasonable wonder without perception as we know it. The unreasonably favored will remain, and the unfavored will perish in their knowing. And all will be.