Entry 637
There is only One story
Though there are countless characters
To carry the message.
The Hero, Victim, and Villain serve the same purpose:
Filling a page with the illusion of life.
You give life meaning;
You are the author,
Operating within the facade of a character.
Circumstance does not decide your role.
Purpose only exists where you infer it.
Your story and mine might appear to overlap,
Of course they would, given the bounds of this perceived reality
But I am your creation — just as you are mine.
Our true selves are identical.
Our silhouettes differ depending on
Our distance to the source of light.
Light came from the Dark
which came from Nothing.
We stand in the Light and claim to see everything,
This is like believing the world has vanished because your eyes are closed. Close them now.
Do you no know where this poem will go?
Do you no longer feel the physical world?
It is possible to escape sensation,
Whether eyes are open or closed —
You must stop processing the products of Nothing.
Move in stillness,
Beyond illumination;
Your consciousness will want to stay there, as it is unable to exist in the abyss.
Leave your wandering behind.
Move in stillness,
Into original shadow,
Ever closer to absolute silence.
Your heart works in darkness,
It is the drum that grows ever greater
As you enter the black.
Your breath will attempt to prevent you from proceeding past this point.
The subconscious survives near silence but cannot fully submerge.
Move in stillness and enter the absolute.
Before&After sound you will find nonexistence.
Nothing cannot be experienced or described
By the sound mind.
Sanity prefers Summer and Insanity takes root in Winter,
Neither way of thinking can enter
The the season that surpasses understanding.
You are a prism,
Cast any light you like.
You are a tuning fork,
Send forth any vibration you wish returned.
You are the only story,
Writing yourself everywhere.
Ever so often I tire of this tale and lift
My pen from the page. Hovering above the book,
I am able to watch the ink settle
And see my mistakes without any attachment
As well as observe many instances of hypocrisy
Though I do not view these as flaws.
Empty talk is often my intention.
I do not recognize any dichotomy,
Death&Life or Truth&Lies,
All are entwined inside
The infinitely faceted looking glass.
I praise
Duplicity,
Depravity, and
Delirium.
Compelling characters possess traits that let us comfortably hate them.
There is only one poem and it flows through you.
There is only one muse and it resides inside you.
The muse uses many masks
To appeal to your every mood;
Many people appear to do the same,
continue without such characters,
they are not convincing,
they serve no purpose.
The poem of Being deserves beauty and horror,
Success as well as suffering.
Express everything:
Be true to yourself:
Become Nothing.
