Fresh Face, Familiar Voice
It all transpired by the energy inspired, moving in circles around the room; the forces of my mind, like a sneeze, bursting forth with the power akin to creation-- though never in such respect, no glory, attributed and distributed only by the one is who is all in one inside and outside of me.
"Don't look behind you," he said to me, feeding off the past, sick of the poison of proclivity, the posterity a purpose to wallow and swallow what should be spit and stepped-over freely.
No sir, those words were acclimated, like scars, scathing and scattering about the room in every glance.
No mam, that time was a time of learning, but like a library burned, the words still put forth like a newborn babe who lept forth and instantly learned to walk through fire.
No mama, this time with these words must ascertain enlightenment, if anything, evolve beyond the selfish.
"Don't look behind you," to a time and a place with a thing when all matter aligned, as if something then was more perfect than now; as if who you were than were greater than you were now-- perhaps you have allowed yourself to deteriorate: mind slower or body weaker, yet is your energy willing to die?
If only I believed in death, then perhaps I would too cease my energy to be. If I believed that I would somehow be nonexistent, than perhaps my soul would scatter; absorbed again by those would chose to be one with the one who is the one that is all things existent.
I don't know. Don't look behind you. Look into the mirror, and turn your head just so that you see the light shine in and out and from and to your eyes directly. See the gold inside yourself, and know that something might just have spoken, and light burst forth into creation.
Words are so small. They are but the capitalization on a notion of a singular moment in time. What I am talking about is somehow being beyond time. Me, and you, and I am, not limited by that which decays and decomposes; but moves in all directions, in all places, because all places are understood, and therefore accessible in a whim, a pull of something simpler than desire.
The word death as we know it literally means, "separation" Think perhaps, the energy of oneself leaving the limitations of the body.
"Don't look behind you," and dwell on what has been. Prove to yourself why you'd rather taste death than eternity. Or find the nectar of nutrients, dense and supple. 8O8
"Don't look behind you," he said to me, feeding off the past, sick of the poison of proclivity, the posterity a purpose to wallow and swallow what should be spit and stepped-over freely.
No sir, those words were acclimated, like scars, scathing and scattering about the room in every glance.
No mam, that time was a time of learning, but like a library burned, the words still put forth like a newborn babe who lept forth and instantly learned to walk through fire.
No mama, this time with these words must ascertain enlightenment, if anything, evolve beyond the selfish.
"Don't look behind you," to a time and a place with a thing when all matter aligned, as if something then was more perfect than now; as if who you were than were greater than you were now-- perhaps you have allowed yourself to deteriorate: mind slower or body weaker, yet is your energy willing to die?
If only I believed in death, then perhaps I would too cease my energy to be. If I believed that I would somehow be nonexistent, than perhaps my soul would scatter; absorbed again by those would chose to be one with the one who is the one that is all things existent.
I don't know. Don't look behind you. Look into the mirror, and turn your head just so that you see the light shine in and out and from and to your eyes directly. See the gold inside yourself, and know that something might just have spoken, and light burst forth into creation.
Words are so small. They are but the capitalization on a notion of a singular moment in time. What I am talking about is somehow being beyond time. Me, and you, and I am, not limited by that which decays and decomposes; but moves in all directions, in all places, because all places are understood, and therefore accessible in a whim, a pull of something simpler than desire.
The word death as we know it literally means, "separation" Think perhaps, the energy of oneself leaving the limitations of the body.
"Don't look behind you," and dwell on what has been. Prove to yourself why you'd rather taste death than eternity. Or find the nectar of nutrients, dense and supple. 8O8