Human death is the metamorphosis*
Our bodies are born on earth
We take our first breaths
And our first steps
Here on earth

But our souls
To them
Birth and death do not exist
Purity and the ultimate truth are all that do

As our physical bodies belong here on earth
Our souls belong to another medium of existence
This realm I speak of is limitless and undefined
It consumes matter

We experience human life temporarily to expand our auric embodiment
Death and rebirth weave to sustain continuity
For continuity is vital to both realms

Human death is the metamorphosis
The transition between this realm and the other

Do not conclude your conscious mind can decide when to enter
Only the universe herself knows when it is time

Euphoria will gracefully arise and settle gently yet strong
No more questions will remain
The answers will be embedded in you
Not in the mind

To be afraid of an all encompassing metamorphosis is to be fooled
This is truth
Allow it to dissolve into you

Holding silent stillness
The becoming of nonexistence
Simultaneously permeating the atmospheric realm
As the acmes of the hexagon ease into falling disintegration
Remaining unmoved by mediums
Consistent in the mind and abandoning anything but
Observing in the absence of eyes
So quickly it's slow
Slowly consuming awareness
The clearest quality of a vast
Pulsating
Clarity-filled
Boundless trance

I have always discerned not only my pieces
But all prose
As art
Literary, amorphous, atmospheric art
My reason being the way we consume and admire it
Paintings and sculptures are admired by the eyes
Put on display to observe
Music
By the ears
Played loud or quietly to feel its effects
Culinary
By the mouth
To share and reward
But only prose is absorbed through the soul and our consciousness
There are no novels painted onto sides of buildings
Or poems playing from car speakers
Prose requires a deeper awareness to appreciate
And the rareness of that depth is what causes me to feel this way about it

The inspiration that concieves my pieces are birthed during spiritual acmes of various dispositions
My style is more prose-like than poetic
And intertwines elements regarding the Universe, spirituality, Buddhism, and Mother Earth
All that I compose is felt as the flesh of my soul

Although I have been writing for as long as I can recall
It wasn't until the age of 15 that I began composing complete solid pieces of prose
Though it hasn't been very many years since then
I have witnessed my eloquence emanate fairly quickly and beautifully

Translating my soul into language is the core of what I do
It is a challenge at times
Others
A breeze
I hope to compile my pieces into something tangible some day
Releasing my auric energies into the world for everyone who pleases to read and feel from me

I begin by sharing a quote

“I think that we are like stars. Something happens to burst us open; but when we burst open and think we are dying; we’re actually turning into a supernova. And then when we look at ourselves again, we see that we’re suddenly more beautiful than we ever were before.” ― C. JoyBell C.

They say that if you do what you love
You’ll never work a day in your life
It wasn’t until recently that I realized and felt what it really is that I love to do
What it really is that could maintain constant without growing increasingly melancholy over time
(Like most other things for me)

In the simplest of words
That quote is exactly what happened to me
I say "happened" as if it hasn’t happened again
But it has
Multiple times now
The first was the most invigorating
The broadest and most awakening
As the continuity of life and Dukkha occur
I find myself growing familiar with the course
Just like drugs
It gets less euphoric
Not as magical
But instead gets replaced with a deeper, clearer understanding of the experience and outcome
Something much more impactful and deeply rooted
It now alters my consciousness and awareness

Since the first time
I have felt an internal urge
To share my experience with anyone who’s willing to listen
Whether it be by prose
Or ******
It is mentally and spiritually rewarding

My goal has always been to be the burst to someone
The burst that opens them up and launches their soul into a metamorphosis where the outcome is them becoming a supernova
Just like I did
The idea of I vanishes when speaking/writing about the ecstasy and liberation I gain by sharing the experiences of my spiritual journey
And when I am able to witness my passion for telling so reaching and sinking into someone else’s mind
Feelings of exciting wholesomeness fill me
When I'm able to observe someone else’s awareness lift to their surface because of my words and energies
Exponential ecstasy hugs and diffuses into my soul
Using eloquence to uplift others is my gift from the Universe herself
It is my personal way of showing gratitude and love for Her
I realized that humans all connect and grow together when I felt the uplifting I had instilled in others reciprocated into me
I want to heal others
I want to guide them towards their own spiritual awareness
This universal love and compassion for life itself and everything in, around, and about it is far too majestic and vast to not share with the world
The intuition and urge is persistent
I am currently searching for the perfect environment for it to flourish within me
And when I do
The final Truth will emerge

We live in a world where:
An illusion is called reality
And truth is a conspiracy;
Slavery is freedom
And all work is tough work;
Logic makes no sense
And school numbs the brain;
Our faith lies in those in power
And materialism is the religion;
We want to stand out
But keep trying to fit in;
Blood is not always family
And our tools are our best friends;
Friends are actually enemies
And love is equated to lust;
Peace is fought for
And humility is weakness;
Priorities come last
And talent is disability;
The wolves are the sheepdogs
And the Shepherd is ignored;
Our way of life leads to death
And medication vitiates;
Sanity is madness
And creativity is destroyed;
The past is disregarded
And the future seems bleak.


Centuries ago,
Shakespeare left us the question: To be or Not to be?
I guess it is clear which answer we chose.

I feel every beat and moment as pain
Heart-wrenchingly, beautiful, euphoric pain
The sorrow feels almost refreshing

My soul is swimming inside me
Simultaneously building up while breaking down
Slowly contracting
Slowly expanding
Light and deep motions all at once
Harmonious
Moving in melody and rhythm
Inside me continues to contract and expand

When I exhale
I exhale deeper
My physicality only mirrors my experiencing soul of pain inside

This is what pain feels like
It is by far the most raw of a feeling
Identifying it as a feeling seems disrespectful
It is much greater
It is an experience
A spiritual
Mental
Auric experience
While killing it heals