The Beginning of the End; Raised Tune!
Unordinary Expression;
Life consists of various opportunities in which it has itself become but layers added unto the way Man construes belief to contain remnants through means that lead those unaware of death; this does not neglect the central desire to bettering that variety, as to improve upon the Lack and enable a steady pathway wherein by thoughts manifest as separate measures. What is the proper way to interpret how our actions, as to then lead Love where no wave carries it, for the extents we go to impress a crowd are but marvels in contrast to the absolute daunting perspective; hitherto, within a motive to see what Man creates as a passion unsettled than a lust made real. As scary as it is to develop one's self, does the internalization of experience (be this observed than retained) become an image where looking beyond the given is lesser in comparison as the menial waves that edge the shore of existence, merely tempt us into the devastation of past endeavors.
For to then experience, yesterday was to endure today leading up to the morrows worries. In my own personal life, I have seen multiple ways for my friends to become excited about their own passionate side, as then to include this as the "Unseen Love made Reject;" be this founded on the fear unto Man or of God, as these two vestiges of hope remain only one lays as exposing without so as to within. Friends who could have gone into Aerospace, Nutritional, Pharmaceutical, or even of Relational value, this is but a remaining factor as I alongside them hath not the courage to engage in these vast fields of, not only knowledge be it, thoughtful reflections upon that which is established already; for the medians to approaching growth comes unto loose ends than made beginnings.
What then shall Man allow themselves to be enamored by as to assume anything less but of the absolute resounding muse of Nature, spiraling upwards; due to the casual axiom that rests on this alone; "Longsuffering to Uswards," in other words, greatness comes as still waters casually awaiting our time to belay "Girding one's Loins."
So then what shall we conduct ourselves when encountered by the vastness of available means to gather purpose from within, as to prove toward us that nothing may become lessen lest we tempt this renewed expression unto suppression and kill the Ideal image of God. So then the pathway in which becoming Unordinary shows itself as real, must be funneled through a series of observative reflections as to improve one’s psyche; contrast this with the modern notion of accepting the Mundane Promise, which spawns from the Devils in us. Henceforth, reject the Modernity by measure as to then oppose what is given and propel those hidden talents, actions, or even niches into the forefront; this laying out a casual means to achieve the End that all Man seeks as the “SuperMan (Übermensch by Nietzsche).”
The True Misunderstanding;
Regardless of beginning the title causes itself a pathway wherein which various motivations are innovated upon from those lacking to prepare themselves for life—Lest, our customized purpose furtherly move to DEATH! Prepare yourself for thy owns reconciliation lays on the precipice of decadent topics, by standards where others are staring into your soul with a piercing intent that it merely prompts as in standing to become seen via relinquished faith—Must you then be a child seeing ants and asking Desire for its death rather than of our own! Regard, then, how social lenses are thereby, counting a single potential outcome, inclusive, furthermore destructive in response. How we are thus leading fullness when our staleness of Life poses as remnants—Need We Enjoy it! How many men, moreover women, must be corrupt to reach such baseless depths—O you who lay dying to your ways; no matter its reach!
Look therefore to the inspiring journey where I experience and discover, for these rest on thoughts separate from the intended pathway in contrast upon the consideration for MORE! Yet we remain here in our lowly arrogance, attempting to build upon restless actions to fashion our delights; O you of instant Faith! Calling upon thy own arsenal of friends, brothers, sisters, allies, boundaries, havens as to then introduce new Terms of Situations; wherein by, these behaviors of desperate cries are fallen upon the most malicious of herd leaders—O desperate fools, how you lack in the wake!
Search! Seek! Discover?
Must you then be of the old estranged man—whos Perdition lies in proximity—leading to points of revelation considered thus false, hiking to see the new highs yet preemptive in execution groundwards? Will, I retain knowledge of all days, sessions, moments or must I be of my own downfall—conditioned to the waves of others mishaps; O how I of great Folly, Fall! Sincerely, I say, the whisper was spoken, its screams trampling our winds, its breath lusting, its weakness our strength; only reserved for those who desired to leave themselves behind—O how great their reward shall Be! We are, then, reminded of great pasts whose journey left all Man among the rubble, desperate to cling to just a morsel, parcel, piece, person of wanted perfectionism; though those who speaketh, now renounce! For the reason of writing upon enamored reflection determines itself upon announcements in social groups, only able to recollect times of adrift infatuation toward one another—Woe to thy who forget the Neighbor! We must be of low-grade! When just as we decided the justice upon others as the "factual" claim; presents what we, therefore—shells of dignified, bonafide, exemplified versions of injustice—produced as nothing but deceitful, insensitive, false voicing of opinions.
No person is thoughtfully sure, for they live thoughtlessly unsure!
Perhaps we may discover an intention which does not need to rest on the assured mess of predicting character, furthermore, motivation from the sight foretold as good rhetoric from self-delusion. I need not any encouragement, no applause, no audience, no approach—running away from lives unlived—as to give way a version of Lust that approaches all things sensibly and in tune with amplified causation; not lacking in part, yet sustaining in full. No individual has been able to crack the code of my own being—how lowly I must Be! To have faults—without first chipping away portions of my own selfish intentions, having revealed in of itself the desire set forth!
All ye who remain blindsided, be no more as time will act as our passer of days, numbering, countenance in adjustment hitherto undeserved extents. Shall I be more clear on the ebbing desert—How shallow we must be—or will we draw by the oasis, which then gives itself unto deception, imitation, deflection? A due paradox indeed, therefore why will you renounce the potential drought for the observed water, or will you be like the rest and attempt both hands to cusp thine flowing living sands—How narcotic I must be to advertise such pleasure! Waver shall become the new cry in which is heard and felt, though no person yearns? Why must life be fair to us in the first place? For we all deserve the chopping block—eating your cake and having it too—to then reset what we would consider experts as "Mindful," for what is displayed rests on a sole contradiction constituting "full" as an endowed hunger satisfied! Insofar as, releasing anger, doubt, envy, vanity, lust as spiteful leftovers. "Yay unto us for finding full satisfaction from our lack! Wherever we got it from," says the unlearned primate searching in his wake.
Leave me here O wonder, for I have gone adrift!
The searching passion presented is in way contrast with the inevitable plan to incorporate harshness upon observed means of replication—O, leave me unto Wonder, for I need a drink! Reconcile and await your own nebbish influxes of satisfied discretion, alas to give diligence within the moment where lives could become connected under one intent, motif, call withstanding the testament to time ever Uswards. The mischief caused by intimate renewal causes conditional truths to be examined, as to play white noise whence spending time with that said person. Will the people notice their stupidity, moreover their error? Or shall our family, friends, allies, enemies see an opportunity to predestine fate as oppressed than suppressed—Such folly indeed!—in the grand enigma concerning undetermined lifestyles, personas, masks.
What will you say after hearing, reading, feeling these words? Must you relay the similar hurt, dismay, pain upon others in response? What will you do in times of solidarity, protection, restoration for these questions are unanswered by you—O you stable one! Therefore, I hold only one Veil and thus being the opinions exposed in these writings; moreover, my own Life viewed as Torned!
Consider the Lilies that toss and tussle among the enduring rain, sleet, malice, substance whenever attempting to grow beyond those thawed hardenings; how we little naught in sight of flowers yet exonerate those who wilt dully—You who consider life a bus ride completed! For you shall see no good or evil but rather indifference, this being our eternal fate!
If you seek to be Understood, then become Misunderstood—Thus Being Them and I!
Prologue; The Torned Veil:
Time binds all wounds healed by the principle of Loss due to the vision felt beyond this torn veil as like a dream lost within its own ethereal choice; does a slave become an old present awaiting the masters' delight. Why be tempted for still waters as a choice, for but as stagnant as the means, hitherto, toward the hurt that stretches farther than any gain beautified by Natures own Eternal Law, it almost looks as if the journey toward any resolute may become dire whence lived out in proper accordance to the Self.
Then why have Men given Honor become all but a resounded blur, by relative standards, when given hopelessness by the daily; man finds that in the carried motive of Love itself, came alive otherwise Love for the Self begins to resemble the heart of Stone than of Flesh.
Varying moments slow love, perhaps by fruitless choice, when Man is allowed unto composed outcomes; as leaving death stimulated rather than diminished, would sorrow bring naturally? Seeming as if the joy scattered before our eyes are but a still image bestowed for those who thought reflectively, would relate to the depths being pierced with an original Truth, knowing little of what will be unraveled in itself, wholly. Love was made to give knowledge to man in search of a higher endeavor as if we deserve an opportunity to make do with any potential belonging to Yourself; worse yet of Our soul growing loose within grace. To be born into a world that knows that what is designed before them solely “good” lacks in themselves a reason for the folly caused by One; be it made wise by consequence as those who lead beside still waters for the drink flow into the great chasm of potent Self.
Why would Man not desire to see himself in light by where the condition toward existence became but simple layers adding unto its own destruction.
In the development of the earth, we saw that this was to be a day of rest for the sake given without Pride but, with great passion is this performed, in true to the natural self. Seeking this alternative taste to how ending ways around the natural means in which death provides, though leaning on the internal wants should become the resulted gain whence driving towards a higher goal; be it remembered as the "salvation seen as grace." How should this world lead itself into a model that extinguishes ignorance and asserts this motive for a preserving grace? It shall be made lessen by the reproached view due to the underlying image charming Persons to have easily conceive when faced with an issue, extending beyond the known; which is also to, dare I say, declare an encounter with Lucifer as a Righteous means rather than an Just end, for this is the way that man has relinquished faith.
If doom seemed as impending as much as the naysayers moan for then shall Our hearts cry, no perhaps a Yearn into the depths, as to produce a calling that shines through the toughest of thickened blight (that is gunk from the Old World)? My people have always seen the result of what Man has strived to conduct, be it ethical or of lack thereof, indeed that sort of assimilation toward the Great Complacent Citizen; by standards that sought too lowly of what could, hell even should, the People needed to convey for themselves to Be. I am relying on the absence of Self-becoming loose within the world that given much due to a seeking such countermeasure; this by ensuring anyone expecting to be Within must realize the labor to gain the Without. For what is expected whence promoting true identity when a plethora of disavowing, moreover Destructive, instincts are aware of the Inhumane perpetual view; that is from the Natural way to Exist in concordance among the hiccups of Man's Life.
Dagger, Rubber, Painting;
Formless Form you were, Formed Formulation you Are!
In the Beginning, John was birthed from the abyss of Chaos—amidst such versatile beauty—through the burden of being Chaotic; His existence would include, then, measures and messages as too soon take the form of an outcast, more than society, state, nation, shall be of the terror it will invite, absolutely.
Thus, Chaos must prevail through His preordained fortune, heretofore, crowds being twisted to stumble within, be this fiction or null. No spirit was stricken in such of a manner wherein, enemies retained such calamity—moreover prearranged design. He had to refrain from his own treats, for these depths need more than poorly cupped hands; since creation anew will aid in the discerning experience itself. From this Chaos, sprang forth a means to entrap all of Man's desire under a Council that would produce only the toughest, finest, fields of thought impassable to the Human eye, there would God soon pick sight than of breath. The Universe, therefore, assembled together once more to figure out this Childs Persona in the First Council—A place where souls are ordained a vice and purpose, according to Nature; this being their Lawful Mandate.
With this beastly power originating, reflecting, veiling their creative instincts as to suggest, then, a five-year-old John to be among these forces of Nature and simply marvel at the effort crafted in each soul, essence, life. Now, this was truly a place where the Gods played, for the many Four Guards of Creation were presented to the Assembly Hall and needed to present a case where all could come to terms with a settled ideal and real. These Guards acted as giver of the introduced rather than the intervened, like that of their compatriot God, as they had a dispelling, rid of, eliminate Mans intolerable sensation with Destruction.
Count again, for this time we sing Endlessly!
As John was prepared for all consequences entailing this 'Assessment' as seeing Creation from its beginning arose a sincere, honest, dangerous attachment toward the unknown. Thus, before entering this Grand Hall, John was tasked by one of the Guards to travel within the Corridor and hinted that only the finest, renewed, refreshed may trespass among its blackness; "Why must I be fine, new, or fresh when traveling such a simple hallway," laughs John, as he spoke his Guard saw fit to redirect his arrogance. "Do you not know why? Truly, when you have inquired yourself enough to walk, through such 'simple' opposition, then let us be stunted by your growth!" When the Guard spoke, John, being prepared for all things, leveled with his Overseer and saw the move in his error thereby lending his ear a sacred time unto the words spoken—The Justice it beckons, timelessly!—realizing the depths to this front, this hallway, corridor extended a sense of not only dread, but John scented another smell: Rare of Rare.
As if a swift moment whipped by, John saw a sudden glowing Hue of such radiance, the magnificence that only of the fine-tuned, plastered wonder in which summoned the most primal out of him as he stared into this great piercing Corridor, glimmering of the wearied Stars—Marvelous, it has been to see such Grand! For as he saw it for, what felt like twenty lifetimes, only posited a question, one by standards specified to completing this simple task of walking. As per person, each person is given a purpose and vice (Granted by the Guards of Creation) and though John knew sparse connections, as he was just accumulated into existence; he discovered that by standing before this Hallway and contemplating the routes before entering these multi-faceted walls of primal dominance, would only be met with his utter stagnation.
Thereby, with all these thoughts egging on John to just go through this damn hallway and be done with this entire foolishness, as to complete the task pressed and was passed by countless others; this leading his Guard to reply once more to his audacity to wait, "Must you be so hard-hearted to not trust the unknown? Were you not from it? I say, Go! and tell of your way, be it life or none."
"Why should I trust this faded blackness? So much as you; being my guard and all, would not I be of Creation and Destruction if spent going through here, such treachery for Gods to handle little insight of worm; for us is not the chopping block." In the hearing of his debacle, the Guard had therefore learned from John that his only means to believe is granted by only sight, wheretofore, occurs as its nature, allowing John to pass through the faded abyss and seek that glimmering Hue:
"John, you ask of grand audacious statements, calls, cries while yet, despite tenacity, lack in what bellows from within you and may suddenly arise from such following, moreover folly; Will you or Will you not take this Hall as the frightful You! How must you then fall, in front of those who arisen?"
Called was thy Name; Lacking in Praise, Cry.
The striving flattens desire only creates itself without the gravely ill or lacking an outburst, of a tale, fantasy, dream of reacting toward this grand gaze into the depths. As to have John peer into this and realize that the only route toward the other side of this hue-like veil, was to take notice of the Guards words and Go! Thus, the pursuit left him in a ringing aroma of opioid death, with a lingering scent of robust tranquility; "Where in this blackness must I then know of your scented mask? Will it come like a Storm? Fear? Sight? Or shall I endure, knowing of its return."
As he said this a pierced feeling overcame him and was stricken flat on something... anything? He felt himself toss and turn inside of this straightened hall, yet feeling as if he went through many, as to have become burdened of if he was heading in the correct direction; leaving a confused insight to be rebounded by the glimmering speck sprouting. It felt so tender, warmed was of this ethereal dark, sly in its approach, I was home—Alas! Thus John found solace interwoven—considering, then, of that voiced speck glaring back at his established radiance, such sanctimonious scent:
"You stand now, John of Void, as the stepped desire, lasting of all things be this of the entrusted in faith. Would you dare question such loose existence?"
John received by this enamored speckle of glimmered hope left only of a divined fear, revealing the intrusion of this gazed favor placed upon his eared sight. Whisper was that silenced tune, accorded,—silencing then, there counted faith. Science trials reveal only of the stoned virtue protected by the opportunity to understand the trail blazed with a blocked response; withholding the primal virtue.
Traveling the cornered valley, he then spoke his awed wonder, "I have... not been able to see yet I believe? How?" stunned be of John, as he spoke the speck began to draw nearer to him, touching his hem and giving, thusly, a procured serenity, "There was no sight in all, only of that sensed faith, furtherly, only the pictured banner resembling this lavished fate; For you see I, beyond your eye.—Need you More or Less?"
The need to understand this monolith of Silence posed as that gazed virtue, John has lingered before this audacious sight and revered in its encompassing presence; supplanting the called darkness. As he was about to mouth his verbed verses, he was brokered by the thundering cry from that speckle:
"KEEP THE FAITH, O, JOHN OF VOID, FOR LOVE, LAYS ON THIS SUFFERED EDGE!"
"Who...who are you, that tells of such wised tunes?"
"FOOL, DO YOU NOT BELIEVE OR MUST YOU STILL SEE? I SAY GO ALL THE WAY!"
At that time his eyes gleamed on the transfigured form, he saw the formed hall, the settled walls, that disdained hinged frame; beckoning his sudden praise! As he began to realize this utter change, his Guard summoned and befell John one last time: "John, you will or else, will you not?"
"I... have seen this exemplified sauna, I now learned of these mishaps; I will see you on the sided hinge, graced Guard!" Just before he was prepped the Learned Guard stood before him and spoke to his sincerity and amped self; "John of Learned, You have told of yourself, now you refer to me by the name of Void; Ignorance!"
John, after hearing this, felt a sudden electric, elated, surge in his Being; prompting only of the primal fasted sprint. He dashed so madly, so willingly, that as he was fasting through this dazed path; the light, this glimmered speck of wonder, urged John to take chase to this hailed journey. As he neared the end, John decided to act unlike all others; to be so inflamed in his determined gain, he took form, readied his shoulders, prepared his soul; as to push into that door and blasting those lasted hinges as to bust the Corridor of Void and landed himself unto the foot of a rounded room, a place where such light illuminated all the existing edges.
John fell from his dashed chase and looked back and saw only of the perspired fringe hall; seeing no base, no floor, no walls, no Guard.
As he began to look around her, approached by the Trained Guard; one of subtle wondered, such glimmered dress; contrast to his other guard, that looked like a frugal man.— She was of absolute daunting height and of prose; resembling of the fated dream. As he saw her fawned glow, she spoke with such resonance that John plucked himself anew:
"Tell me, John of Void, have you seen or believed? For Sight is made worse, the more used, but belief has sustained you,—O, John of Blind; Will you Hear?"
Serene Values;
It is through routing, retreating moments in understanding which gives lack depth, as scared as he was, trampling, rioting, and even debating on aspects of death—running wildly amuck. John was a young aspiring newcomer into the world in which, all, must be accepted as nominal or normal; Why then search for a reason when he was filled with professed demagoguery? Or was He? Time and time again, people within his friend group, school, or family were unaware of his recalling tales of chaotic beauty, as these led a "boy who cried wolf" pack, developing as to then become a ceremonious misunderstanding of what John, truly, craved beyond than just this plastic obsession with the End.
Who John came from, for the first five years of life, appeared as nothing to him (though will carry its own burden in time); stemming from little to no interaction with familiar characters, social groups, or of Love—Alas! John held no version of Love attained, moreover retained. Childhood, then, presented a monolith of silence, this discovered as a consoling faith enduring a mechanized abundance, as to act without fear of being judged on perception. We see that from his early upbringings that Johns persona emitted that of the Madman and eagerly pushed those in earshot to be offset by a series of self-satisfied rhetoric, consumed by the meat of juxtaposition and colloquiums, did this recluse conjecturing persist up until High School. By this time, John begins to recite his soul and is heard, in so far, in fact, as to even animate the words toward his friends, received only with aloofness did John then felt pressed to explain to them the importance of symbolic recitation:
"All these words, all the speeches, hell even the silence is apart of my nature, leaving only a state of Paradoxical Perdition to be what viewing leaves in my abused wake" he decries. As he addressed those words it produced an eerie connection resounding in the near absent Cafe prompting a faint reply coming from the circle "must we follow, rely on, or prevent our ways in order to satisfy what I have, as belief in someone, perhaps god, purveys as a mistake."
John, in recognizing the attitude of this proper sarcasm, therefore reacting in a sly indifference, beckoning a grim warning shrouded by brilliant insight, "You have seen that which is wanted, leading to a contrast incorporating god as the mistake; truly, I say that none is worthy to be thoughtful without being thoughtless."
As these words were spoken they soon came to see and believed.
John, now determined, invigorated, exonerated in planning to bestow wisdom, moreover produce a faint image, a mirage, a deception as for how his friends conveyed such contrast. For between the worldly existence alone, allowed measures wherein, others soon then considered, as to then proclaim, "John to be a Man set after Vain." While this was sparsely warranted as an actual virtue. Few to none have actually considered dissecting his immense capacity, as his desire to step out had not yet arrived, for what was deemed as "Mystical," so then also is in the transition of Sophomore to Junior year; as to include chipping into this immense recollection.
This seemed to suit the newly refined John, at the ripe age of 17 did he choose to finally break out from his crippling shell of persistent self-degradation by examining the principles aforementioned, spoken or written, as the core by which he considered "a lack of interest for Self-worth and being impassioned coinciding by one thing alone: Darkness." For this will become Johns last entry until the day he suddenly left, without a trace. Although ominously, the same day he assured that he would be back before his time, this being his final words spoken:
"I have seen too much of the light to be considered 'God,' hence I shall remain as he was in the beginning; Dark, Thus Being I."