My effort to live is as good as my fear to die
My strength is weaken by the weight of the world
I give all but receive nothing.

Like a wrestler,
I show all my strength and talent.
They notice not, for all they want is just the satisfaction of their eyes.

I live to die even for the things am not supposed to die for.
I live in the mist of nothing trying to pleased them, now am as nothing as them.

The corpse whom I am is been taken to and fro by the waves of my land to a no destination.

Am beginning to rot and smell in the heart of those i loved with all my heart.
To them, am just but a living corpse.

Like a carcass in the mist of vultures,
Here I am in the mist of faith and religions of land,
Full deceit and evil.

Like a beautiful garden full of roses and lilies,
But beneath, I am that rotten worms and corpse that bring out it glories.

Never have I been notice
Because to all I live no more,
But my strength and talent they always required.
Here I am, today as a breathing corpse.

Saturday, March 7th, 2020      

       The imagination has the capacity to ensky one’s entity, it is the Apotheosis of the Astral Flame. True ennoblement, therefore, cometh not of intellect; the left-brain, but of sentiment, of creativity; the right-side of the brain. What is humanity, what is life, bereft of Wonder?
      
      In all of Creation there exist patterns & distinctions, both are coeval happenstances. The implication? Creativity is our Highest Divine. Within phantasmagoria can be found paradigmata; therefore, divinity is the Paradigm of Creation.  
      
      My tribulations have been my masters in the Hierarchy of Sacrality. Every moment of darkness has taught me to rove within for the ethereal light. Suffering is ephemeral, gladness is ephemeral, life is ephemeral.

Counter-intuitively, all things are transcendent, fluid, yet, static, and impermeable. Truth, without spirit, is unfathomable. The constant amidst an order of the chaste unknown? Our spiritual heritage known as Love.
      
       When we allow the world around us to be fathom’d by the eyes of our hearts, we partake of the privilege of Transcendence. Our hearts burgeon ineffably. There are no words to describe the beauty, the splendor, and the indelibility of a spiritual perspective. Furthermore, if creativity is of the same canon, it produces similar fruitage.
      
       My intuition gainsays my disbelief. The warring within me shall bear Faith from its embattled womb. This sterling quality is the source of my resilience, the crux of my perseverance; my muse. I am, we are a miracle.  
      
There lies a hidden power inside each one of us. We must be willing, patient enough, to cultivate these virtues. Our souls shall wax virtuosic when we do.
        
       Until my last day on this Earth, I hope to continuously metamorphose, blossom, effloresce into the spirit I am ordained to be. Foreordinance means not exaltation, but humility.
      
        Light cannot exist apart from Stygian Shadow. The Stygian Shadow cannot exist apart from the Light. Each magnifies the cadenza of the One who formed all things.  
      
        The mentally feeble are so easily persuaded to believe in the inherent goodness of Light. Spiritual pedigree teaches us the fear of the Dark; paradoxically, every illumination casts its veil. Such cannot be the purest evil if placed within the hands of the Great Revealer.  
      
        We cannot discern the merits of virtue simply by its outward appearance. We must peer inward in order to extrapolate, assay its purest essence.  Every element: Water, Fire, Earth, Air, and Quintessence each play a role in the Hierarchy of Sacrality. Therefore, we must be grateful for the natural unfolding of things.
      
       The Tides of Time unveil the cyclic changes that the Terraqueous Mother undergoes. In like manner, life changes not just with seasons, but with the passing of the ages. Though life is an evanescent exodus upon the Gaian Expanse, we see so much transpire in its brevity. —Life itself is a season, a coming and passing, an experiential vicissitude. Moreover, if I am to understand the essence of the Experiential  Cascade, I must believe that these moments of clarity are sacrosanctities of the highest order.