#yourserogenously

[yourserogenously]

Spring to the spirit Bares flaws, but no ceiling Accept, love and grow

[yourserogenously]

Wake up

Wake up! They said. As if to say what’s wrong is wrong inside my head. From what? To what?

How can we be sure what is real and what is fake? How are we to know what it is to be awake?

If my dream, if a dream, be a dream dreamt sleeping, there’s worse expense of time. Tell me: To dream your dream, why should i wake from mine?

[yourserogenously]

To be continued?

What comes next? I’m curious to know, and all possibility aside, i expect one of two outcomes. There will be something, or there will be nothing. I do not fear death. Socrates tells us a philosopher doesn’t fear death, and we are all philosophers, regardless of Cave inhabiting status. Although, his belief was firm that the soul is bound prisoner to the body until death’s release. But, i’m not so sure. Though i do not find fear in uncertainty. I find fear in my curiosity on the matter, but i think i’m content enough to await my answer patiently.

Something, or nothing. Something could be anything, but it is still something. Something bound from there to here, somehow still between me and you. And nothing, well, i should imagine if that is the case i will be shown the mercy of being denied an opinion on that either way.

Now to think; this question is more of life than death. What if this is all that we have? Each a flicker against the black; our time a blink in the eye of the universe; a single chance to burn so bright, by it we might be noticed; perhaps remembered. Forget living like there’s no tomorrow, with half a hope of waking a different week; Live like there’s nothing next. You could do worse than be proven wrong. Unless, ofcourse, reincarnation be so governed and inclined to recast you a baboon. Red arsed bastards they are.

Taking a moment to entertain a notion that begins with the death of a star and through various miraculous processes, become structures of ever more complexity and function: molecules to cells, to tissues, to organs, to the forms that we take; then, if you’ll pardon my arrogance, I, like you, am not of this world; if only in part.

Now, somwhere along this journey from atomic to hedonic, consciousness presenting itself as mystically as it does, an essence of being; a debatably evident spirit. Though potentially for all it’s wonder, so conceived a soul out of a simple fear that when we die, every thought, emotion felt and every memory is but amongst the dust. That it is at that point, as never was, except for that of the memories amongst those with whose lives yours intertwined, until such time as the last of these threads, to which your faint remnance clung, themselves come to cease.

I want to believe there’s something more, though i don’t know it to be the case. Of coming from everything, the realisation of the infathomable, of existing beyond imaginative conception and standing to become nothing; with everything we are and can be, and so limited in our standing to remain as such. Bear that in mind and ask yourself: am i here to do as i’m told? Or, better still, are you?

[yourserogenously]

Some turn out the lights to get lost in another; Some, to get that other lost.

[yourserogenously]

Fear not what is or may be, but the forever wonder of what could have been.

Me

[yourserogenously]

Commfounded

Though i recognise the voice in my head to be mine, when i speak it’s rarely it. Rested words pour muddled, fumbled. Ideas by mouth are a candle unlit.

[yourserogenously]

It may have been careless off me, but I  just fell into your eyes. And I would so fear a still world, lost alone, for not your saving kiss.

[yourserogenously]

Truth

Told red is red, is red as told A world in mind your colours hold A cage with bars of spoken mould This world perceived till withered old

Witheld, bent, broke or offered in totality honest brush, but no palette of duality Your art, my vision sought guided of fallacy Keeper of truth, Master of reality