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Benthos and the Ablyssal Deep

the well of souls at the bottom of this gravity pulling us Here from a panopticon into which we do not know where what concepts like these are to represent throughout the great cosmic mystery of this holographic universe constantly working its’ magic on us all, driving some of us in the discovery of and curiosity for happiness as both a selfish image and for bettering the whole of civilization into surviving further this future than even we cannot foresee in unsure pursuit of whatever might seem special, but bottom does not always mean the end or edge wondering where the start of lost might be located in this etheric sea awash throughout all parts and pieces of time and space and seething on into those dimensions out of our direct range… searching to find some utility in ourselves and our environment a purpose to which resources are not impaired by our curiosity stemming from spiritual or hedonistic ideals interpreted by the individual so questing, a civilized happiness bringing the benefit of a greater good or so we are made to think by those trying to assume control over all of this so that those future odd signs and symbols and their layers of information thus attached are doled out by an unseen series of overseers claiming that they know better, and for what use other than mastery over civilization like it were some game for more than just those heady young fools who feel justified to bluff in their privileged scenarios twisting strict rules for a personal gain that may never lead one to the challenging truths eventually sought… or the wanton pleasures wreaking and filling out the haunted sessions with echoes of an extremity that pushes the limits of a passion as the details recklessly abandon there a humbling vanity to prevent them from eating their own shit for only a moment, but what do i know as this humble narrator jamming down a thirst for more cowbell clapping and kicking the cattle as these people into gear for the purposes of re-calibrating in this organic dimensional machine yearning to adapt those lurking behind their shutters against expecting some pre-planned coming of oblivion, as they resist their urges and access to ages that inform them counterwise to their obvious perceptions preventing all the further progress that a hope implies…

Thanks, khet.