cygnus
Mirror mirror, just look inside
Tell me child, what do you see? I see a hypocritical truth bearer, preaching words of misleading wisdom. I see destruction and chaos emerging from ideal lands of heavenly beauty. I see change; alteration. I see time and the innumerable worlds it encompasses.
What if there was no sanctuary? What the fuck would I do?
I live amongst these people. I live amongst them, and I listen to their worthless pladdering; I listen to them not being able to move from one point to another. Their stuck, all of them, stuck in the same mindless patterns. The same schizophrenic state of being that they call life.
Ha
Life is not being alive. Life is doubt. Life is power. Life is wisdom.
See, the moment you lay back and start to FUCKING RESIDE IN YOUR learned in fucking dogmas, you cease to be. You are completely excommunicated out of, if you ever were a member, the dark heavens of reality.
No, this will not do.
Instead of watching the walls around you and learning to like them, break them, create new ones, fucking question their very existance, I don't care. Just fucking take your world for a spin every once in a while, eh.
Drown yourself in culture! Let the words and notes of othern wise humans (they too, under the influence of helplessness and chaos) surround you and teach you.
**
A battle is fought. I stand alone facing an army of thousands.
The optimist in me will scream for fighting, for indeed he believes there is a chance yet. I will fight with a furious conviction and I will die, my dreams unfulfilled and my optimistic timeless life ended. (There's a greater chance though that mr optimist will face reality, perhaps when his arm falls off, and he will panic his way into hell)
The pessimist within me will lay down arms. He will, if at all, put down a half assed fight when they grab hold of him and then he will basically accept whatever is coming to him. He will die a painful death, but he will have known what was coming to him. Dead, and apathetically so. Death to him is a relief.
The realist within me will find a different way. He will show the white flag, sweet talk his way into joining the army, or flee using most cunning techniques. The realist will survive, but for what? A life of calculation and apathy; a life for the sake of no sake. And at last he will die old and alone, as the world proves itself too mighty, and the realist will not flinch, for he knows far too well that death is an integral part of life.
The Me, however, is a bit trickier. But the me will, after major contemplation, do whatever is in the Myself's greatest interest. The Me will attack wholeheartedly. He will attack, not because he thinks he can win, that would be ridiculous. No, the Me attacks to feel. He attacks and feels the optimist joy(hubris), after which he falls to his knees in desperation as the pessimist suffering grabs hold of his mind.
And at last, when the sword touches his neck, he wanders into apathy, gently and without regrets.
And so he shall live on for eternity, accompanied by memories and dreams
Having milked the very essence of life, with all of its aspects.
And they will call him Cygnus, the God of balance he shall be.
Cygnus, be my God.
adieu
Tell me child, what do you see? I see a hypocritical truth bearer, preaching words of misleading wisdom. I see destruction and chaos emerging from ideal lands of heavenly beauty. I see change; alteration. I see time and the innumerable worlds it encompasses.
What if there was no sanctuary? What the fuck would I do?
I live amongst these people. I live amongst them, and I listen to their worthless pladdering; I listen to them not being able to move from one point to another. Their stuck, all of them, stuck in the same mindless patterns. The same schizophrenic state of being that they call life.
Ha
Life is not being alive. Life is doubt. Life is power. Life is wisdom.
See, the moment you lay back and start to FUCKING RESIDE IN YOUR learned in fucking dogmas, you cease to be. You are completely excommunicated out of, if you ever were a member, the dark heavens of reality.
No, this will not do.
Instead of watching the walls around you and learning to like them, break them, create new ones, fucking question their very existance, I don't care. Just fucking take your world for a spin every once in a while, eh.
Drown yourself in culture! Let the words and notes of othern wise humans (they too, under the influence of helplessness and chaos) surround you and teach you.
**
A battle is fought. I stand alone facing an army of thousands.
The optimist in me will scream for fighting, for indeed he believes there is a chance yet. I will fight with a furious conviction and I will die, my dreams unfulfilled and my optimistic timeless life ended. (There's a greater chance though that mr optimist will face reality, perhaps when his arm falls off, and he will panic his way into hell)
The pessimist within me will lay down arms. He will, if at all, put down a half assed fight when they grab hold of him and then he will basically accept whatever is coming to him. He will die a painful death, but he will have known what was coming to him. Dead, and apathetically so. Death to him is a relief.
The realist within me will find a different way. He will show the white flag, sweet talk his way into joining the army, or flee using most cunning techniques. The realist will survive, but for what? A life of calculation and apathy; a life for the sake of no sake. And at last he will die old and alone, as the world proves itself too mighty, and the realist will not flinch, for he knows far too well that death is an integral part of life.
The Me, however, is a bit trickier. But the me will, after major contemplation, do whatever is in the Myself's greatest interest. The Me will attack wholeheartedly. He will attack, not because he thinks he can win, that would be ridiculous. No, the Me attacks to feel. He attacks and feels the optimist joy(hubris), after which he falls to his knees in desperation as the pessimist suffering grabs hold of his mind.
And at last, when the sword touches his neck, he wanders into apathy, gently and without regrets.
And so he shall live on for eternity, accompanied by memories and dreams
Having milked the very essence of life, with all of its aspects.
And they will call him Cygnus, the God of balance he shall be.
Cygnus, be my God.
adieu
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