I'm just a dreamer, an analyst, a coy observer, the antagonist of the story. Always the antagonist. My perception means nothing. My embodiment within my own complex reality means everything. This world revolves around me. I'm a creature of the Heavens, I'm the guardian of this Universe... this Omniverse.... this Multiverse. And I'm sad because my consciousness only exists here right now. I will die. I will die. Will this webpage exist for generations to come? What will be the next epidemic? How will I die? How did you get here? Imagine if your ancestors had never bargained on a road trip to find a new country and taken it over. Imagine if you hadn't moved here. If there was no war in your country, would you have come here in the first place? If you lived somewhere else, how would your life be like? What if your grandmother hadn't married your grandfather? What if you didn't have a sibling? What if you're actually a fantastical being that hasn't come to consciousness yet?
I say; wake up! Wake up! This is an illusion. Who are you? Who are we? More importantly, why are we? What's in it for us? If the afterlife doesn't exist, explain how I can touch things right now, how I can feel, breathe, react, touch, see. EXPLAIN! Oh, I say; these are the things that make us humanly holy. These are the things Angels don't have; free will.
We are plain sacks of meat and a duffle of bones moulded together. How did bacteria develop so far? How? Why? Think about it. When you put your earphones in, isn't it so cool? Because a slab of meat (your brain) can transform waves of sound to something tangible, something ordinary. A piece of meat! Literally, think of the meat you see in butcher stores. Imagine if they could do that. Change your perspective. See things differently. It is astounding how you are you and I am me. It is astounding how our illusions intercept with other people's illusions.
It's astounding how we are so compact, but so eloquently systematic. I will die. You will die. But no fear. Because fear is awful, and we are more. We are beautiful.
(a.g.)
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Melancholia
PoetryDocumentations of feelings, connections, and emotions. Contains perhaps some explicit things. Do not read if you are easily triggered, unprepared or too squeamish of all things raw and not sugarcoated. If my opinion angers you, for that I will be so...
