All around me

There’s no point in changing your mind,
When it’s easier to detach mine.
Time to fly away in forms of flora.
And we’re soaring,
Especially an aversion to kneeling.
When suddenly,
Some turbulence unveils itself as an epiphany:
I can’t see the point.
My soul pained,
I scream at everything I’ve ever known:
“We’re all liars, lying to try and tone down death”
Existence shudders.
Unspeakable words spoken breaking bonds of convention.
The walls are falling in,
Tides are coming soon,
And I’ve got nowhere to run,
No reason to, either.
I can feel it all flowing through,
Curving my mouth up and up.
With this smile,
I relate.
I communicate,
All the while,
Even with you all around me.

With my life, I have found so much. I have lived as a Christian, as all children are, children of faith, after all. A skeptic, as all good souls are, skeptical of rules, absolutes and purposes. I live as a lover, of life and good women and certainly good drink. We are all lovers, certainly, chasing after our drug that makes this life worth while. And you know, that’s what it comes down to. “We shall be known by our passions and loved for our drugs.” We’re junkies, don’t you know? Haven’t you heard? It’s not so bad. People simply have to learn to reorient their valuation systems into skepticism and adaptation. Change is at the fundamental level, existence. For you see, in terms of humanity, if something stays the same, it ceases to exist, until change reenters the scene. That’s certainly how time works. And yet, we hold convention in such a high reverence. “When, oh when I beg thee to tell, shall this world and the liars living within learn what men of my caliber have suffered, endured, and loved?” It is a cold thing to live alone in waiting. But that is my story. Not sad, or plagued with suffering, but cold. Solitary. Call me a monk or teacher, but the name falls right back off, faster than you threw it. I’m no monk. I do not invite suffering into my life, for I have never known suffering. Nor shall I. “And thus, the power of the human mind was seen as the clouds parted and Earth was bestowed with visions from the Gods that revealed too much. So it was, we have been told, that the Gods were then revered as original creators, instead of the true, original product of our own minds. This is the passage of the valuation of truth into the utilization of lies.”

Oh, the cries of artists and prophets both fall upon deafened ears and tearful eyes, and thus, the utility of ignorance was envisioned by misled worms.

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