Sometimes I lose myself in a whirlwind of imaginary situations and prospects that are manifest within nothing more than a single cell, which is none other than I. The overwhelming pressure applied to my mind is enough to make you believe the poison is delicious, as long as it removes the contortion and chaos, if only momentarily. The concert of a lonely virtuoso fills the halls of the chamber with a daunting yet faint melody, symbolizing the grief of nothing more than the moment. Accompanied by the burning smell of various plant matter that seems to lure wanderers of the twilight to take refuge underneath the window sill of the dimly lit room.
Each note coincides with the rhythm of our heart. Each pulse tells a story. As the blood flows throughout our manifestation, revitalizing our very essence, the thoughts forming throughout the internal space begin to take root, reminding us of the complexity that which Humanity embodies; positivity and negativity intertwining in hopes of forming the abstract representation in which we are. Carefully molded individually and uniquely chosen as a piece of the puzzle, one that remains to be solved. The very mystery of that brought us together only to be scattered to the wind. As lightning precedes thunder, the thought that ignited the very action that bound us to this endless pattern has begun to leak outwards. revealing a critical flaw in the very system that holds our very fabric of reality together.
Just as the splitting of a single atom symbolizes the destruction of the entirety of the Universe, it also represents fear. The release of a single cell unto its final destination, represents not only the birth of the Universe, but the rebirth of hope itself. Even when we falter, we seem to thrive and only when we thrive do we ultimately seem to falter.
As the weary clock chimes infinitely, the passing of the past leads to the future which ultimately coincides with the present. We feel that which came before us and yearn that which presents itself will exceed that which held us down up until this very moment, when it does not, we break and refuse to appreciate that which lies before us, as it will never be enough until we allow it to be so. The feeling that we have been waiting for an eternity to take root within us has already left and returned without our knowledge and it shall continue to embrace us ever so subtlety until it is seen as that which always was and always will be.
As we count our cursed blessings and our heroic mistakes it dawns upon the very one acknowledging each individual precession that they could not have been without the other. As we reach into the deepest and darkest crevices within our own psyche, the light shines through and reveals monsters as nothing more than mere shadows taunting us into futility. Our angels seemingly were nothing more than tricksters all along, leading us along a path that we had not previously chosen, one in which we do not belong. The old crone who patiently awaits your return at the beginning of the crooked path in which you flocked to begins to grow weary and turns to rest in her lead hut, anxiously flipping a silver coin between her battered fingertips as she recalls the future story of a golden hero in which you could have and should have been.
Although lost within the matrix, it was you who built the labyrinth to begin with. You are the minotaur hunting yourself, who wishes to slay the monster that you have become, to free none other than your very kingdom which has been reduced to rubble by external invaders while you thought about the proper way to execute the unsanctioned creation that tears your very core apart internally. It was only you after all, who was capable of reclaiming whatever it was that you sought to begin with.
Riddles speak for themselves, the truth within them reveals itself to only those whom are willing to tell of their faults, their madness, their lies, the futility of it all is that it was you who decided to decipher the puzzle ultimately, and you who chose to lose yourself within.