To feel empathy, for this to go unheeded, to appear the fool — the basis of all knowledge and wisdom questioned.
To construct this reality of deceptions — an abstraction of the abstract, returning to the former causes such confusion.
Questioning the basis of self: the world as perceived.
To overturn the delusions of the mind, one’s reality immune — comforted by pride.
The judgement of truth, the acquisition of knowledge, brings little solace to the heart.
These realities I construct sculpted into a work of art, an attempt to capture the heart’s desires, to represent the beautiful as perceived.
I hoped that your judgement would be the same that you would gain the same knowledge.
I wrote you prose and lyrics — for I am not a musician, if I were, I would write you a symphony one that captured my Dionysian desires — to set alight the fires of Vesuvius: the fear, the hope, the joy, the despair, the intoxication, the obsession, me as the creator of worlds. To feel like a god, elevated to a high, to see beyond the self and the ‘will’, to the beginning, losing self-restraint, to break free the chains of chaos, create disorder out of order, to the beginning — the unity — beyond the facade of false realities. In love-the metaphysical made real, to be as the gods — creators of worlds.
If I knew why I love you, I would not gain pleasure from the beautiful?
Now, I am the fallen angel.
My rejection for aspiring to the Gods, wanton of love, daring to see with the eye of the other, to share the same reality, but it was not to be.
Am I the witness of a false prophecy?
Banished thus forth from heaven.
Beauty as perceived no longer true.
Living in Apollonian dreams — lucent realities striped of all complexity.
To this image that I am enslaved. The mirage in the desert of mind: worshipped, the consciousness elevated to a state of glory and ecstasy.
A simulacrum of self to real to be true- the Hyper-real. I saw you naked, laid bare with no history, I, the mother to you.
My world fleshed out of my imagination.
This dream I still cling too.
To have made the wrong judgment is such a painful thing. Still, one must live to see a new dawn and a new day.