Where is the end and what is the end,
Is the end the place where time will bend,
Is the end the place where recollection occurs,
Of all the peaks passed and valleys endured,
Will we be saved,
Or will we be taken away,
Is there a choice
only to dust we turn
There was faith in his absent mind.
Or was it just the mere need to be blind?
Is faith imaginary,
Or is this imagination his only reality?
He is free
I who am enlightened, enlightens.
Althought the greatest fear or evil of all is indeed omniscience.
The people who don't have the will to think deeper are technically happier
We should not be able to know that everything is nothing.
Knowledge brings us deeper and deeper and deeper with an absolute, ultimate ending at nothing
It's like a tunnel that everyone's in but there's no way of going back except: UNDERSTANDING
But then again understanding is a knowledge. The loop.
The third eye exists, this is the third eye.
Third eye is the "loop" realization.
But one thing is what can save anyone. That's when the thinking ends.
Where it all ends is when thoughts are reached with another's, that's when thinkings done, and that something else is the savior. A soul.
It's just a buncha **** I wish could do,
Yet with this **** strife I'm only subdued,
Clueless on what to wait on now,
Constantly a smile flipped into a frown,
I wonder what it takes to not be so bound,
Constantly punished I question what's the cause,
The fate, karma, or just God's given smiteful pause
Water drips from the sink
A body races a droplet's fall
Witnessed by nothing but a
A sequential cry,
Above it all
The almost-soulless ring of a soft piano key,
Every single one
A separate thought,
Smooth lullaby-like tones of silence
A man lonely and so cold,
Trying hard to grasp an aura
He assumes to trust to not reveal the hidden,
Until unknown souls spot the flaw
Cowardly thoughts he fails to hold back,
Paranoid, so paranoid his nerves become barbed,
His mind darkened as he's blinded,
His words cruelly reversing any remaining trust,
His screams so beyond chilling they sear the mere
Love left in a heart
Though only so few understand to not blame,
To not blame a man ensconced by a cold world,
Only trying to survive with a fire he himself sadly creates