From a blank slate, there is curiousity.
With curiousity, abstractness appears.
Beyond abstractness, patterns tumble.
Seeking meaning, patterns into logia.
Overseeing what was lost, into sense.
Unless I'm mistaken, birthing loss.
Loss, yes loss. Sprang forth emotion.
Master of none, jack of all.
And a motion that never knew toil.
Thrumming tunes that bought ache.
Emotive, encouraging yet eccentric.
Life, is a much diluted, many splendoured thing, it brings forth things we never know if will work out, never know if what we need is behind that door.
Only when there's an equal force acting on us, do we stop spinning in place, do we stop being us, do we stop and stare, for we'd have found something to cherish.. or crush.
Victory is only worthwhile when there's someone to see it, but what use is victory when you're all alone again, all spent and used up?
Enter your desire, to be used, to be abused, to lose control, to be vague, to be understood, to be one again, after eons of separation, an empty vessel, to be filled with the other's soul.
From my hidden desire to have you
I realised I was looking for myself
And when I found myself
I didn't know what to do with myself
So I gave up finding a meaning
I gave up everything so to find myself
A prose with no mosaic
So I went into it
And I found these scriptures
To the top again
Where I found power.
From desire, there is surrender.
From surrender, power.
No confession, no obsession, just mortal acts of indignation.