Natural.
It's a natural essence, it's an indescribable form of an immaculate beauty, stemmed from a higher form of being. It's an inhuman sense in the most human form, and we long for this awe-inspiring treasure in our life long struggle for completion.
It's reminiscent of natural beauty, and it must be. It can't be an illusion, like so much else in a ruined, bitter, and completely ignorant self-dubbed civilization.
It's the sense of wonder bestowed on mortality when mortality is realized, and the true reality of the perfect balance of this universe is set upon an individual being. It destroys, is destroyed, and has destroyed. It is past, present, and future. It is eternal, yet forgotten.
And it is clouded by the outlets that we have brought on ourselves.
Comparable to the wind, coming and going, likened to the water, free-flowing yet stable, it lives.
And like a seed, I long to stretch, to spread, and tower. I too drain my surroundings of life, to live. To exist. Why then do I not grow? Why the unfavorable balance of what has died?
And yet this too remains un-achieved.
I long for it, I can't sleep for lack of it, it haunts my dreams, it lays in my path that I follow, it speaks in the music that I hear. It's like a magnetic charge, it lingers and strengthens with the rate and distance of exposure, and when turned around, repels.
All this, and only you are comparable. What else can challenge? Would I accept the challenge in the first place?
Do you(we)understand what would be?
It's reminiscent of natural beauty, and it must be. It can't be an illusion, like so much else in a ruined, bitter, and completely ignorant self-dubbed civilization.
It's the sense of wonder bestowed on mortality when mortality is realized, and the true reality of the perfect balance of this universe is set upon an individual being. It destroys, is destroyed, and has destroyed. It is past, present, and future. It is eternal, yet forgotten.
And it is clouded by the outlets that we have brought on ourselves.
Comparable to the wind, coming and going, likened to the water, free-flowing yet stable, it lives.
And like a seed, I long to stretch, to spread, and tower. I too drain my surroundings of life, to live. To exist. Why then do I not grow? Why the unfavorable balance of what has died?
And yet this too remains un-achieved.
I long for it, I can't sleep for lack of it, it haunts my dreams, it lays in my path that I follow, it speaks in the music that I hear. It's like a magnetic charge, it lingers and strengthens with the rate and distance of exposure, and when turned around, repels.
All this, and only you are comparable. What else can challenge? Would I accept the challenge in the first place?
Do you(we)understand what would be?