That of a poem

[jtinsanecc]

I enter the building. The blood is whipped off, as the birth into that which is new has commenced as the cord of relativity is cut. Be it undulation or be it a revolution of a ceaseless cycle the optimistic sense of mine tells me that I am a knot higher than last time the rope was cut as I was climbing to my goal. I climbed and climbed, and met others on the way, others climbing, others falling, others never touching to rope again. Did I mean to find one like you? What permits this acquaintanceship to be out of the bounds of the chemical? Possible it is that it’s the core of a selfless desire to give, and a confident faith in the reward given. Will it be a climb that we can help each other to make? One in which we can reassure ourselves, and quench the existential voices within us as we discover our ultimate and infinite utility in this great rope climb? Should we listen? Should I listen? When it comes down to it, am I separate, or distinct within? Or maybe both. Or, maybe more? It depends on whom we can trust in. What might separate this climb from others, as anxieties and distress become out of view. Pure joy. I look around, we look around, everyone is looking everywhere, wanting, needing for what we all hope for, whom we hope in. Will, together we be ones to show it to them? I’m comfortable doing it myself but I know I can become accountable to you. You in your luminescence, as you stand there apart, beckoning as if you’re advertising that you were meant to be. Meant to be, not ‘as if’, because I know you are. Help me reach Him above us? In perfect Humility? Whatever happens will be for the best, so long as He is exalted. :-)

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