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LastsunPoems
Search for meaning in your tale but beware. Once found, it clings to you, and it never loosens its hold. It haunts you softly at first, then completely. You begin to see the endings of all paths, the quiet extinguishing of every flame, the fate of every name ever spoken. And so it kills you slowly, knowingly. You become a vessel hollowed by truth a moving husk, mortal in body, immortal in vision. Things become stories. The world becomes a painting. You witness it, yet you no longer belong within it. You stand outside the veil, alone, an observer. The wind brushes your skin, but you feel nothing. Your heart beats, but its rhythm never reaches you. Then, from the shattering of meaning, wisdom rises. What was meaningless grows heavy with purpose; ignorance becomes a desire you can never reclaim. Pain shifts into pleasure. The fool becomes the sage. And death, once a terror, becomes life renewed. But even then, there is no salvation. For after death, you still know. Knowledge does not die. Thus the abyss becomes heaven, darkness becomes light, and emotions turn to intoxicating poisons. Gods unveil themselves as monsters, sins bloom into desires, and the self torn from time becomes eternal.
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Nov 25, 2025
Nov 25, 2025 at 5:15 AM UTC
Burden of Meaning
Search for meaning in your tale but beware. Once found, it clings to you, and it never loosens its hold. It haunts you softly at first, then completely. You begin to see the endings of all paths, the quiet extinguishing of every flame, the fate of every name ever spoken. And so it kills you slowly, knowingly. You become a vessel hollowed by truth a moving husk, mortal in body, immortal in vision. Things become stories. The world becomes a painting. You witness it, yet you no longer belong within it. You stand outside the veil, alone, an observer. The wind brushes your skin, but you feel nothing. Your heart beats, but its rhythm never reaches you. Then, from the shattering of meaning, wisdom rises. What was meaningless grows heavy with purpose; ignorance becomes a desire you can never reclaim. Pain shifts into pleasure. The fool becomes the sage. And death, once a terror, becomes life renewed. But even then, there is no salvation. For after death, you still know. Knowledge does not die. Thus the abyss becomes heaven, darkness becomes light, and emotions turn to intoxicating poisons. Gods unveil themselves as monsters, sins bloom into desires, and the self torn from time becomes eternal.
Lastsun
Written by
Lastsun
24/M
Nov 25, 2025
Nov 25, 2025 at 5:15 AM UTC
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