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Life as a letter Bomb

explosive upon contact the volatile emissions and emotional wreck that subdues a human being like us you or i in this planetary vessel voyaging in its own respects into another galaxy altogether though we do not know this as the truth until we deduce it for ourselves, we are taught the clues to things that make only little sense to us as children with our ignorant wide eyes ever open for the oncoming reckoning that is an adolescence as rites of passage unique to each one of us that keeps this chaos truly as balanced by the skin of our teeth, and hinted at through great works of others a community hidden until that distinct fruition of independent understanding reaching with compassion toward the onslaught beyond merely fiction as strangest of proxy to hold sway over such a massive continuity as ours… symbols and signs littered in every aspect of the human travail building up to aspects which vent the pressures of this human motile machine as animal coming to terms with itself as much as the states of awareness and ego either housed or sheltered within, a body moves in mysterious ways that can only be defined once the act is done and the intellect is left reacting to a force of whatever the collaboration between intuition and instinct to which ends our mind may use reason and logic no matter how ill-conceived to justify any and all of the actions made while under the direct influence of other forces, but we are not merely ships with gathered bacteria and viral information trying to pass unseen as our collective history manages these myths that have surrounded our patterns of real thinking researched and tested throughout the centuries that we may not even remember arriving Here in the first place… our revolution is a constant one as mutations adapt to our grand structures and achievements where perhaps a more alienistic view would have us look on with a more pragmatic eye on the details of life instead as this ‘scientist’ and the ‘artist’ seem to stand at odds within each other only sit on opposite sides of the same spectrum, perpendicular with the dichotomy of anima and animus as relates to the masculine and feminine forces at work outside as well as inside these forms as they relate to each other, or all the stories myths and tales we find ourselves compelled to tell and listen to are means of the information possessing a capacity to meditate upon a thoughtful act…

Thanks, khet.