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Obscure Not Dead

the odd parts of us we think we lose left afraid and wandering the state of this repulsion of bliss and all that it entitles a human making us alone feeling desecrated and dead though these aren’t quite the feelings without outside influence that dilates to the confusion of senses in the dreaming haunted seeming still and bored by the presence of humanity, but is it some kind of lack of compassion that we must have to endure amidst each other’s raw and abrasive judgments that creates this comatose form an organic machine robotic a mess to behold who creeps and craves the finer things through manipulations, this obscure being constantly changing into whatever it continues to adapt to beyond a purely simple idea of a soul that it is said stays static and never experiences the lessons we all seem to need to share connectively as a unit of species that traces its roots back to those periods before a humanity could jot down history… relieving the burden of control by bold leaps and bounds determined by unknown a force forward urging us to shaping on the primordial templates as if to extricate ourselves through the gap as it appears some monumental void out and onto a higher plateau of something unseen perhaps we cannot ever be shown but must become in order to see it true, as crystallized truth of who we came Here to be as seen through the televised sights that raised us through ages of something it seems we were never meant to know much about lodged within ourselves buried in question and doubts with a guilt and shame in the wake of asking serious questions of the curious intent behind all of these traditions substantial thoughts born of realized ignorant acts against the self and others, and to what reasoning the damage is caused then cleaned up like nothing had ever happened in the first place with deceiving seeds seated at the start of a dysfunction made real in consequence to deal with for many of these as generations to come bleeding through like light shown through a prism… the separate strands of colors our selves drip down to pool at our feet like a worshipful tribe to imbibe for our approval the gist and the jism of the situation presented before us, many of us caught up in following our bliss that we do not ever seem to see the other side as terror ablyss to contradict our needs and desires from the manifest as a simple investing in ourselves, but curious if we hear our hearts why fear our fearts?…

Thanks, khet.