Have you ever had a moment that took you deeper? This is that.
She looks at me with what was beyond woo in her eyes—like a newborn child in awe of the world—this was beyond love or the stories of the mind, though it can easily become misconstrued by a story, attempting to understand what is not to be understood.
“It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye”
Her fierceness scares me but this is her truth and in this I admire. Know that I never want to own you or anything that innately desires to remain free, uninhibited, wild and bare. But I want you to remember what tastes best when you desire to eat. You see, through my experience and observation, the very chains the bind us are our ticket to freedom—should we see that they are intended to be broken.
Our true nature is birthed out of chaos and we’re destined to die into chaos—where disorder meets order. The mind transcends into peace as its layers of confusion dissolve into nothingness with each fleeting breath—where life meets birth and where death meets life—all becomes one.
The ambition that I feel is immense; powerful like a beautiful cloud. I don’t know where it comes from—it’s exciting and when I lose it, I begin to drown in time—into the void of my mind—a prisoner to it. The very tool that lifts me and gifts me when in the flow becomes the opposite when I get lost in the story that it speaks.
I wish for all and of course myself to discover the freedom of shamelessness, of being wild, uninhibited freedom—I’m not special, I’ve heard the self-perpetuated doubt and subtle distractions that deceive as control—they are dick and mean nothing. Freedom that combines every element, every atom of consciousness towards experiencing the “good” and the “bad”, the “wrong” and the “right”—the fact that everything we have been made to believe is a lie and is based upon ingrained dogmatic morals that were birthed out of biblical fear and control—founded on a hypocrisy so profound that even its followers can’t accept its own truth.
The only truths that are our own are the ones that we courageously seek to know—drink until you can no longer drink—eat until you can no longer eat—fuck until you can no longer fuck—have a Dionysian orgy with a cult of personalities—break bread with the devil—do bad in order to learn your truest good—go fucking wild. But remember, when you come back Home nothing else exists outside of yourself.
If you truly love all and see others as yourself, you will forever be forgiven and never forgotten; for this is your purest form.
In order to develop Apollonian powers, one must give into all the pleasures that life has to offer.
“You must have chaos within you to give birth to a dancing star.”
Every story that you’ve lived and have written began with the very choice to pick up the pen and birth something new. When death becomes us, I want no regrets. I want to fall in love with all and transcend time into kernel of truth. I want to water this seed with the salted tears that I shed while caring for you and bringing you to life.
It’s what your eyes taught me—it’s what these words taught me—I am an eternal work in progress; but I am whole.
Solitude is the key to freedom. If your beautiful eyes were here, I’d likely be distracted by your nature, by my own mind, my own excitements and fears, your effervescent beauty—if I didn’t fear the imaginary story that lives in my head, based off of prior experiences, conditioned expectations—if I didn’t long for you then these words would be wasted and lost in the abyss.
Longing, to me, is the fanciest love there is—all that don’t have love are constantly seeking it, longing for it, and those that do, are either longing for someone or something else—this is why people love love—it is the ultimate story of the mind—the most exciting movie. Most people are unbearable up-close when taken in long durations—that is why the best type of love is from afar with no expectations—the “what if” fantasy—the “what could be” is oh so sexy and exciting.
You see, we are all actors standing upon the stage, giving our best performance—the difference is in those that know they’re performing and those that don’t—don’t get lost in the craft. If I didn’t make time to write, I’d be wasted, wasted like the actor who got lost in the play.
I asked a question to myself earlier: what has writing done for you?—well, it’s given me wings. And from what I’ve learned/observed from the world within me and around me, from all of those that I admire—not many can breathe the dragon’s fire—not many have tasted the simplicity of greatness—and they are all more than capable. In fact, I mirror their greatness in spite of their clueless neglect—they may think that they have no purpose but their purpose is to teach me and then me teach them—those who are lost are my greatest teachers, my greatest allies—those who critique me open my mind.
I’ve been uncomfortable for far too long—do you see what beauty comes out of discomfort? This is my bread and butter—this is profound to me. I’ve died a thousand times to get to the same place. I say to you: answer to no one other than the sky. Whoever is reading this, I fucking love you. Do something great right now.
Tell me what you end up doing in the comments.
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