A stream-of-consciousness experiment:
Why do I need to assimilate, gratingly, subjugating myself to the harrowing monotone of it all, and live my life away in this labyrinth of a world, handcrafted for me and billions, all the same. Why do I have to be the hot malleable steel in this fucking system – the hammer striking unseen behind an ungodly veil of lies and deceit and death? It molds me in its image, makes me see with my eyes caught up and down by their forceps of ‘education’. My eyes are all tangled and messed up right now, I don’t know if I can still go on, yet I walk the road and fool myself with life. Talks and laughter traded like a fucking stock market exchange – INVEST IN HIS HUMOUR PEOPLE! – It is an engraved agony, etched upon the bowels of the world, commanding the direction of its very turn. This has to be going somewhere. Has to reach a soul, not empower, but to acknowledge there exists certain oases, even if a hundred miles apart. There exists a beauty in this world though hard to see. Everything is molded, me and you and a billion more. I thus ask, why I and not those trees those mountains those hills or those birds. Sitting there upon the silent branches singing of beauty unseen, so freely – mocking me. Those trees swaying endlessly as the winds blow past, let their leaves shiver in pristine melody, and yet itself be rooted to the ground. Why doesn’t it want to move and make a world for itself? Does it comprehend the totality? They having been awakened and it’s instead me who’s in his deep slumber. Are they the ones to have ‘evolved’ and us that have devolved w/ consciousness, constantly searching and still deceiving? Some creating, most destroying. Is this hellish loop through the gates of hell ever going to stop? No, it’s not. Death is not the end. It must be a beginning. There is no searching for that which cannot be found. Searching for that which has already been found. We have the answer buried deep down, inside. It’s there. Walk the walk is all. Walk it. Find it amongst the unthinking in the midst. The light glows in its most foreboding in the hazy mist. The heavy mist. The heavy fog of thought. Where there is no thought. Thoughtlessness. Where echoes the voices of the heart. The light which devours the one who is not searching. Who has nothing to find. Like many tentacles grabbing the unwary ship in the harrowing tempest, pulling it where the sea does swallow. It is love. It is forgiveness. It is the most beautiful kindness emanating from the soul. From your very core – unthinking. Give away with fear and big heavy furrows of worry. The truth is hollow, the box with the ultimate answer is empty. Its end shall instigate the cosmic beginning in us all. The Buddha gong hymn of the meditative soul reverberating its somber tune inside where the answer is crossing the bridge of reality towards somewhere where the violins and clarinets of heaven sing with solitude and joy. Bide and search aimlessly until then.
Break the system. Be the system. Be whole once again. Stop. Don’t breathe. Let the silence pervade, calming the bees of consciousness. Let it make you whole momentarily, and forever. <b>Love</b>. It is what rises in the end. Now breathe on. And go about you walk beneath the star kissed sky, where I am you and you are me.