Encapsulated…such an interesting word to use whence we’re bothered without a fictitious realty. Sworn to some meanwhile vision or seen, transpiring thence before us. The sun becomes as my round stage of fire, whilst the moon is a cool gem to preserve the Earth; always in the term of her sister’s preoccupation with nature, and all things in her worship. Everyone depends on both for their peace and light, ever complimentary to our complicated minds; forever our gift and as much our curse.
A sentinel shadow comes over my eyes, strange under this lantern light. All of us flickering in its shadows as we perceive its beyond; the secret we explore everyday of our lives. A question so ultimate our senses lame in its wake, maddening our concept of the world. Strange, that all of us hearty philosophers, or those of us human, merge upon this idea and entrap ourselves in the dread of knowing, and ending, our great search, and moreover our anticipation to behold in its magnificence.
Who would say more? Veritable marauders of faith and evolution, speak as if it were your last. Can you hear the falls over far? Focusing with all your might on the telltale signs of grand indulgences we so take for granted? No…instead the vices of wine and pleasure beseech us and we take our fancy, forgetting about nature and all things more than a moment squandered. We cannot fault ourselves for our reverences, an idealistic concept and in our joyous stupor that is all but boundless; for we are men, and many more of us women, respectfully.
We make what we will immortal. As some things strike us fanciful for a time but grow old, only to leave room for the next orphan-object of our spoils. I try not to be guilty of this, as a King of men; however, who can be wholly saved against his nature, even those who put forth the most worthy effort?
Pray one of us brag we are untouchable and become the example. For our united purpose to harvest love and curiosity it is not popular to harbor denial of your senses. Believe in censure for misdeeds and honor for all time, for without thus you are less than a man.
When we turn in our beds, cozy beside our lovers, dressed in less than our skins as we bare our souls, that must be our Utopia…and the closest thing to this ultimate question. Because save for nature’s passion for love and beauty, the attainable question for men is, “who can I bare myself to, and without shame or mercy can I witness theirs, this whom of who’s righteous enough for my love?†So we have truly answered ourselves in all things, and for those other things that would remain mysterious to us, it is therein which lays their beauty.
Moving…how love becomes our purpose and forever becomes discernable. And everything else falls into place.
