Esoterica

The space spirit. The spirit that questions the question of existence itself untill there's no other answer to run to. Other then, submission. Integrul , absolute , complete , submission if you can't see another way. So look around, Or run within the earth to the sunset and pray to the stars or the moon cause they may be more merciful then her, little is their use of use to you, they surrunder to their impotence and inutility, ( which makes them better then you ) (Right?) lest they shan't help you. So, why cant you surrender to your equally impotent nature, bow to them if you can, it's only nature that they will set once, so then look for the stars, why dont you, set your roving gaze unto a fixed destination untill your God takes it's time to arrive. But then they will set just like eternity retreating on itself, in summary. then turn to the sun or the moon the dirt or the clay, point is, all vanishes. (Yes) the spirit that lies everywhere under the shadows, under your skin while simalatniously roaming the worlds like a park or staying completely still at the same time, it is her universe. Her game. And you, invoulantirly submissive, wether you chose to bite into the pawn of the game or not. (No?¿) But you did choose, even if invoulantarily. (But then is it really a choice?) Is it all so powerless, or is that all because you simply never knew power enough to determine if you were truly powerless or not? Over questions left unanswered, and a astoundingly astonishing, a truly confused daze, sunrises and sunsets observed with eyes that do not speak, yet find within the world much serene, peaceful and a everlasting stroke of a beauty that is not everlasting, beholding it all silently at a stroke of a vision, confined just within the limits of your silent roving and roaming gaze diverted on the visinory, the absolutely great sublime of a single scene, a single one but confined in a thousand different things that hit you in all thr right spots. thoroughly while your eyes dont dare to move an inch, almost. laid down on the bare cold ground from the winds of the winter, cold and breezy, soft and dreamy, and the shiver of the cold nights, that whisper a feeling of safeness, in the safe spot of your heart. feeling the cold seep through your body uninvited, from the old ragged and withered, and unfortunately decaying clothing, maybe from the cold. Or maybe from the old, Or maybe from it being just another shabby, useless thing in your closet. But it holds memories for you. So you can say it's a unique piece. (Yes) “what is the meaning of life?” you ask, intriguedly, observing over the observable universe with your confined and sleep deprived eyes, tomorrow you have work, another meaningless day going about it's meaningless motion as you ponder about more of the meaningful and the part of life that doesn't feel disturbingly torn like the sleeves of your shirt you sewed for yourself, into something that consists of a exhausting routine of, “work, eat to live, sleep and thrive for power only some are granted”. And you will thrive, oh you will labour for it. But would it all be in vein? Only the sweater with the torn sleeves, letting the cold breezes of the cold, merciless night, letting it slide right through at the opportunity laid out, emerging through the tiny holes at almost a every spot. Feeling so peaceful, that, you think, eternity itself might just be peace. Not war, or creation. Just endless peace, because in the absence of everything, there is a eerie quitness, like the rythm of healing broken hearts, and in the presence of everything, there is still an unrecognisable peace, but you believe it is there. Still in this world, still on earth, still somewhere, just somewhere good, and far away, like this land here. And maybe you will recognise it if you saw it for yourself. And then replaced by the relentless, just so utterly ruthless, heat of your heart. Decaying you on itself. The only familiar thing lies in that one decaying sweater, and it's old but familiar smell, while you watch eternity retreating on it's way just like every single thing. Besides poetry, truth be told no poet has ever just described the beauty of nature without mentioning it's cruelness, no poetry has ever existed without a muted swarrow speaking for itself, words unmentioned yet heard by the broken souls is a form of poetry as well. Why is the world a form of cruelty... And not a source of peace, even if fake? Deepened with a sense of pride and fake power to perhaps give you the bitter taste of life before telling it was all a dream? A dream that inside of it you dreamt of, Like a candle lighting a dark room. A temporary candle that will then be dimmed back into darkness, absolute darkness, so dark that it turns into spots of nothings. prosperity, richness and whatnot. (Yes) And if she has to explain to you with her own words, not cruel or emotional, But just true facts How are you ganna find a different way from the person who created all the ways? What is a human being to do, hallow and weak, and more so prentetious, powerless yet so arrogant of fictitious, perhaps just a prostiluted purposal of power handed to you, in tacit ignorance while you reside in it happily like the heavens had been granted to you, or tell me the truth if it is better then it, or accept it. I find human beings and their entire concept as a living being to be wholly a power pretend for more power. (Meanwhile maybe there isn't any power that holds in any one of your souls) The concept of power is an exchange here. No hand that acts within this world possesses true power; it merely moves what was already permitted to move. ----- It's not philosophy for her, it's simple They dont know the real meaning of power And they should never know it and behave, Naively among themselves calling it what they call it best. And that itself is also a pride for her, a sense of absolute control. ---- A control that was gifted to you but turned quickly into precious ignorance, she feeds off as a sense of pride for her own being. It flourishes her, inducing a sense of perfect integrity, that washes her soul from inside out, makes her feel even more at tranquility then whatever sense of tranquility ever touched you. and there are only a few things that give her such a pleasure. Such pleasures of power could not be granted to you, would it be handed to you while you tossed it in tacit, laden ignorance, then of what use to you, or the spirits will be of power? (You tell me?) You would only wreck it, unfortunately To know, just how much you submit to her everyday without knowing. It's fulfilling, in it's own writchedly fulfilling way. To space power is about control, not desire. And you merely move what you were already permitted to move. [But what were you permitted to move?], So is it really power if you can't even act beyond your limits of what was already granted to you? Or is it power if you talked boldly about the latest politics, while you hold your chins up, while you are talking about simply deciding who shall recieve the ultimate power? [Did you moved anything?] -Is it not a mentally taxing idea while you circle back and forth in shallow definitions that circle back and forth over another definition? [Are you just moving through defintions?] Why is yours so demanding yet space's is so “simple.”? Power is control. And you control nothing. You take what you can get, move what you can move, and hold your chin up when you think the idea has entered the criteria of abstractness enough that you would call it a power. -- what if death is the immutable barrier between you and a virtue where you shall be granted power without an exchange-- ,, power with an exchange is just weak. eqaute it to an unappeasable a tantalisingly mocking sense of power gnawing at you every second. “youre not enough” true seamless power should suffice you through and through. Not crave for more like a shameless begger. True power doesn't depend on any dependencies. Not on wether someone else chose to respect you or not. Why do they submit? Why do you come on your knees praying when everything went wrong in your life without learning the first name of a God, you are now willing to exchange everything for. (It's convenient) And dont forget how you turned away haughty afterwards hungry for it? Or is it only good for the resources, (your money). Or of nothing at all worth saving. The sheer total amount of nothing, it adds up to. Or can you add it up to more? [Are you just moving through money?] A simple rule can be seen. Poor people submit to the rich, the rich to the richer, But when, you sense danger, rich will fall to, A something more? No you're submitting to not face danger. You created power to escape something bad. Human cruelty. When you ask the prayer for power, You asked for resources. A major part of it Because the world wasn't fair. and so you decided you needed power to it. So you created a brand new concept of power to stay alive and away from danger. And you all thrive for it, some among you killing each other and causing curroption in the land , unnecessary wars and blood on the fields dripping from the ones who lost themselves to war, and that they should be symbolising strength, a truly agonising and a depressing concept. People might even sacrifice themselves to be buried in a grave of power, if they didnt get enough of the bittersweet taste in a lifetime. How bittersweet, just how tragic, just how symbolic, and if it doesn't break a heart, then what should? ---then what should? ... Why? Why? What caused you to strive so much for an unimportant cause and make it your God? Is God your power, or was it once me too? Is God what is left in your potential to strive more or your heroic symbol of sacrifice for a unimportant thing? When you could have so much more instead. When you could have not... all so you could have meaningless yet such an important shred of relevancey. To stay alive. Out of danger. It was never created for anything else..merely for survival.. But some of them didnt want survival. They even defied that. But they dont defy gravity even if they fly in the sky on airplanes, So they dont defy their definition of power just because they flew on a greater definition of it. You used your eyes to crave a life filled with no agonizing pain...... You saw the witches get expelled for simply living, being women, mothers, or perhaps, more powerful then them. And that is a bittersweet example. You let your eyes cave in a abject, depraved desire and fell for it on your eyes. Humans submit to danger. You did too. Power is what you control, if we're being real, but really truly, it isn't whatever you call being bathed in lavishness of gold and silver and a scrumptious mansion. Power is not the piltary ashes of gold and silver, frantically l*****g like the doors to prosperity, To be on top of a cruel trynnaical society, apathetic to any concerns concerning you, or suffering from work, while you walk, swaggering, haughty, boastful, with your chin held high---- like you haven't just stepped on ten others, viciously, atrociously. But at least now you were on top though. Like you haven't exhausted your feeble body from the sheer amount of work and effort--- just to see people bow to you, while they would kill you with just their vision if they had been granted the desperate prayer to? A golden chance. And you know their wicked prayers in the outskirts of the night, desireful, maliciousness spreading through them like a 2nd blood cell, or an even greater thing, Turning to the moons in worship. Quiet plans. {Desire what you can control} But both look to each other. He pretends to worship you, and you make yourself pretend to like it. Even if subconscious. So is your power just pretend? {A game that you cannot control} Because your heart desired it? {A game that you cannot control} So it could fit the desperate recourse you made? (I am asking you) True power, doesn't depend on a stupid dependency. You depend on their bows, submission, you know. If it should be granted to a pious soul, it would be in a great bounty, perpetual and perfected to the core meaning of perfection. And everlasting, How can it be when it defies the term power itself. How can power be strong yet weak? (Why are you submitting yourself to powerlessness by depending on a powerless person's reaction towards you?) Then what is in your way, a true power? [Moving through the earth boastily¿] To space it is, not absolutely everything. But sufficient. It will suffice you. Not tantively, Sufficiently. But you never understood sufficiency in a world of dependencies for survival. So just keep surviving. [...............….....] And space herself, She exists simalatniously in all the universes like a spirit , [She moves through everything with power, great one] And yet, she fell in love once... A foolishness that is so unfitting for a spirit like her yet fit perfectly into her heart like a puzzle willing to fall into the right pieces itself, like it solved her once and for all. (It didnt) Like love was the greatest tragedy, but rests in her heart still like it is welcomed, but maybe it is. (..................) A fling, of emotions? It happened once. Dont bring it up twice (okay?) {Be cautious} ¿‽‽¿=-+*-/%. If she wanted to do so, she would not have given life to such, defiant creatures. But, while unknowlingly, they must be the most obedient ones. And she placed them on a so called earth She had created you and many others like you. And she's the one who sets you astray and she's the one who sets a great plan. One that you obliviously see everyday but do not understand. And perhaps that's her favourite thing about you, if she does view your soul up and down in a haunting speculation, all she would ever found is pretend. On top of more pretend. A skull barried so deep in irrelevant thoughts that it existence itself never occurred to it. How cwn you exist if you don't know it? How can you know something if you didnt know the full thing? {.....} ¿‽‽¿=-+*-/% The question of existence to you is like telling you to say what existed where nothing did a billion years ago. (No) So if you do not know why, or how, you came to exist, you can't be sure obviously of your own existence. A taunting realization. (Yes) Have you forgotten, or remembered too much that you dont have a memory? (Losing memory by trying too hard, going crazy thinking about it.) What lied before you lied in the box of existence you called your understanding? I Is it not a box if you can't think beyond it... And is space really cruel for treating you like a servant, when you are one. (Yes) The sun sets in a structured, planned way. Is she really writing poetry or beautiful words explaining your own death to you while you huffed ? Ignorance should have been your second name. You had forgotten what the word meant and space had given you free will to exist to an extent she would like. Poet. When they try to utter shameful words that fall on themselves in a greater power then they could ever realize. After all, they dont know power at all, right? Just the manupilated twisted version she fed unto you and you craved like a true caveman. Is power politics? Is power asserting dominance with simply words? (Yes?) Okay, if you think so. (Yes?) But what are words --- Words are a form of power while in reality they are nothing, but in your little and shallow minds desperate for power you made up an easy explanation. Words are power. And yes, technically, you hurt someone by it, make them lower, obediant, less talking more stuttering, but did you really rule them What if I told you, yourself were the depositary of the sacred of the sacred, sacred secrets? Or are you too unholy to be pure, too dilluded to be right, or just dreaming in a long sleep of life? And if it's all just a question to you, then the answer should take you out of the sleep then, to be shocking enough. You are already sleeping a long sleep untill you wake up to an absolutely doomed fate, at the wrong time? While you whine about just how much potential you missed out on, or your family members who will all eventually move on, Letting the flowers on your grave decay like they were dead from the start. Your eyes closed and hands dugged into the sand, while your skull is barried so deep in knowledge and pretend that you forget your own ansecstry? You're born from witches. Millions of years ago, and they had established greater grounds then your imagination, that's why, humans must be the most extraordinary yet one of the most ignorant ones surpassing the generations on generations of foolishness I eradicated, did you have a wish to be eradicated as well, or did you think you were a better play then the one who made the game? Or had you simply forgotten...? What you used to be, how you were fed and nurtured, and what your brain used to hold far before the days of immense ignorance? Ignorance isn't, just living your days as a merchant, and not caring about sciences. It is forgetting where you came from. it is going about your day and letting your brain decay away like it was simply a great inconvenience annoying you every single day? Your childhood self doesn't remember it, But I do, and what if, you would too. In just your early days, you'd have realized greater things your heart is capable of aquiring in knowledge now except for what is found within it's boards of ignorance. And keeping it at that, you will realize it on the day where you wont turn back to find out then. It's because you as a child, hadn't closed your minds. You always thought from desires and wants. Never really and shut it down beyond ever opening it. (In a like a toybox! ) After all, it's not a toy box, shut it or turn it on simply with a click after realising the wrongness of it. From the day you were born just a few hours before you shut it off. It's like if you keep feeding the bird A instead of bird B while they both need it, but you only wanted one, eventually, starved, bird A will find another destination, and leave you for good. You can only keep doing things to a certain extent for it to be reversible. And to a certain extent to keep it. Maybe the bird will never wanna find you again. (And maybe he can't find himself either) Even now, when you think, i will deffenlty think about this even though it's not what I truly desire, but it's exactly what you desired. Somewhere in there. (You're just listening to your heart! Your brain! Where is it!) Somewhere in there the bird long starved and unnoticed, died. If you only feed the bird B, it is only fate to die out, either that, or he discovered something, after flying away. Something that you do not know since you never paid attention. Birds are simple creatures, feeding of off wherever they see food, and not trying to feed of off a place where there isn't a source. What if your brain already thinks and know them, the esoterica of a secret, but simply does not tell you? Would that be a greater myth... What if it knows too much now, and you know too little, for him to be able to explain to you? What if he speaks the universal language because he flew away and let himself wander freely to discover freely and discovered something in it's scope of brilliantness, but couldn't explain it to you as you were simply too far behind to understand.. and the time when the dawn of the earth will fall upon itself, but before that is the time where you will all meet a fate so cruel that is inhumane for anyone to go through— but it doesn't matter. the time where you will scream your lungs out but hopelessly....but why... why must everyone be a thrown in the cruelness of the pit that will swallow your insides out, make you beg for mercy that you know doesn't exist, make you cry for a sin you didnt know you committed. make you..... make you like copies of one another copied a million times over to seamless perfection for whatever reason that seemed perfect to her. ——a son— a copy of herself. exists, yet f*******n from the desire of something as simple as hope and kept away—