Now, to invoke the presence of intruders is mad, and to whisper nonsense into the ears of those who listen, will surely undo the foundation of pure hearts. Yet simply and lacking hesitation the lies pile up one atop the other.
These things fondle the brevity which life is worthy of. What you saw, wasn’t. What we heard, lasted ephemerally. These things you attributed to all life essences turned round and round til in their crazy dissipation, birds fell dead from over our un-inquiring heads. This is how the gods should die if we dont wake them ever: Submitting them to our wishes.
Binding oaths to olive trees, felling ash and oak till dawn, loosing our very unique and personal perception! Invoking invasion. Elaborate intrusions that instill in our bodies coming from the outside manifestations which stroll in the Sun’s heavy unleaded rays, a parasitical miasma. An organic algorithm created and invested with the cortex cells in a mindless lazy brain.
But as it is, all this, here, is just a playground for the gods. The very bad and the sometimes Good. In the internal organs thus reflected, the World Illusion makes playthings of what you cherish. Of what you might have loved and cultivated. Yes, oh friend it’s all a supernal Sham.
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Cloistered in filth yet abiding each day. Afraid of one’s unassailable stupidity. Awkward and tired. Upright like a royal lion, leaning on the the cage’s bars! Stuck within one’s own intimacy. Never wishing it otherwise! But to melt the mirages, that make one sleepwalk day to day, embalmed in a dark night’s embrace. A foreigner in Hell.