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Spare the Artist, Spare the Magician.

read the words and words become more… they echo through head and body in interesting cohesive combinations, and drift into the real plane by will alone, the momentum of thought and the ideas created therein… to me, the greatest and loosest connection of both archetypes is the musician, and sometimes power can be taken for granted by so few… this leads to suicide by meme, the ideas can be immortalized beyond the bodies that transport them to the surface, and sometimes we are crippled by having nothing to say to each other… all aspects are aligned, and to conjoin oneself to the true self is splendid and miraculous… however, being told what to do does not lead one to this destiny, but the ends are always the same just as we are all one and the same to some degree… true freedom is what we all seem to be seeking, but very few find this elusive gem in the rough… those that do pose enlightened to a point, that narrowed perspective that contributes to the murder of originality, but also conspires to remake it into the new material… it also classifies as the fiery coal that inspires the restless to fight for themselves, and expand into new territories grasping the concepts of the remade society… where the artist shows us what the new world will look like, it is the magician that plants the seeds of change into the energy, and the musician utters those phrases that reveal the atmosphere of the dawn after a cruel dusk… the birth of freedom from the storm of the apocalyptic womb… where fear has no power, and where control is just another descriptive word for responsibility… it is through these fresh eyes that we need to see the truth for what it is, and realize that we are not really alone… each particle is individual, but we are all Here combined to see progress through to the final measure… fate but no fate in a time with no time… as we are all together once and for all… the divine will to be resides within each of us, and the potency of honest unity altogether can be what scares us into clutching ourselves above all else… what a crock, I say.