Familiar is the darkness within, wise beyond measure so long as the finger is not mistaken for the moon. Wisdom lost in translation becomes doublethink, sprouting madness which consumes one’s reality in looping nightmares. An awareness of that which you do so wrong, what you must fix, and what you must become, over and over. The destruction of one box, and in its place another. Disturbing and patient is the ignorance which turns the wheel of a life without confrontation, integration, or acceptance, ultimately inhibiting the connection so craved. Bearing an itch for which the imagination has no way to scratch, you desperately wait for flame after bathing in kerosene, but it never seems to come. Spiraling down a dark corridor of perpetual confusion, but never reaching the end. Only after the doors of perception are opened can the mind’s many narratives be shifted. To see with your eyes and feel with your heart, leaving the dark corridor behind. Traveling new terrain at the expense of what you thought you were, a gentle annihilation sees you reborn into creation, sowing new textures into the perpetually unfolding fabric of existence. If reality grants no miracles, then feeling one’s way toward salvation is the only option. When you feel your way out, forgetting all the reasons becomes not just reasonable, but feasible, and remembering the soul becomes second nature. To think of heaven is to create hell, but to know of heaven is to reside there. So why not stay?
Thank you for reading.
Until next time, hare ram, hare ram, ram, ram, ram.