Prisms & Schisms.

There is an all-consuming chaotic storm that beckons me closer with each breath I take.

Only my heart and focus, constantly on the center line, guiding me along a thin veil of false security allow me to hold my space.

A disgrace, who is out-of-place, stuck within a petty race alongside those that do not care for the past, present nor the future.

They glare at me with a hypnotized and alien face, asking why I seem to be vanishing more and more, seemingly without a trace, why is it in fact that I do not seem to be keeping pace, with those of us destined to bring about change in an age that is beautifully deranged.

I see dollar signs in your eyes. You see light within mine, and then you ask me why, and I simply sigh. For brother, oh my dear sister. I am stuck within the sublime and I have been caught between two worlds ever since I remembered it was I who initially denied, me, my own happiness and my own dreams.

Screaming triumphantly as you laugh and youthfully grieve.

For it is easy to get caught up in the fear-mongering, the hate, the obscene. The false prophets that promised false dreams, for the wealth you seek is and never was yours to keep, rather all along it was a mere distraction from what it is you ultimately seek.

Internally and externally, there is a mystery. Infinite and eternal, beyond our reach. for as finite forms, what is it that you hoped to reach? The quest to immortality, so that you could live to see, the end and the beginning of a new world once we grow out of this singular fallacy.

There are works of fact, there are pieces of fiction. Yet within the quantum entanglement, there is no way that you can deny the existence of a magician. The man who came. The man who saw. The man who conquered the world, only to watch it crumble and himself fall.

For the moment is here and now, yet the question is why and how? The answer must lie in the latter then, for the root is which sprouted the branches of clarity and deception. Without hesitation, there are moments to halt the reaction in order to bring about a new classification, in order to add the overwhelming confusion.

True or false, do we own that which we keep?

For although this can be a classic example of insanity, there are moments of intense actuality for those that look in between the lines of obsessive and possessive, detached and unaffected. You are the only author to correct in the errors in which you neglected.

For within every story there are tales of horror and glory. Manic and depressed. Learned and uneducated, yet willing to take the test.

When you look back in time when you take a final breath before an infinite rest.

Did you truly push out and set forth on a mission that you ultimately accomplished, or did that vision become corrupted and grotesque?

You, the caterpillar and at once the butterfly. The life that has begun if only to die. Interwoven from the beginning until the end. The experiences that form and morph what you call yourself, were always solely yours to mend or simply bend.

Accomplishments, yes the setting of goals and milestones, as simple as tying a lace or as complex as seeing that the latest in a long line of emperors is at last dethroned.

Take a rest, before the test, be at your best.

Relay the past to this moment in history, so that it can not affect you momentarily, so that won’t seep into your future untimely.

Drink the poison, yes, the crimson cup of wine. That is glorified as an essence that will rid you of your pain in due time.

Or stand alongside a tree, one burning and exhuming smoke. Inhale the noxious fumes so that painful memories you do not invoke.

Or what of the syringe? Laced with the thick black tar. It fills you with bliss and euphoria for a small time before you drop back to reality, and see that your arm is missing a vein and in place is a gruesome scar.

Just as the tree of life, once pristine and colorful, now dull and charred, goes through the rejuvenation process, ceases to exist and is once most brought back whole from the abyss.

As life is a hit and miss. Full of opportunities that are laced with growth and risk. To resist or simply persist?

Live through the beauty, to see it decay, both should end with bliss.

Sending you Light through Love,

Brandon (Fragmented Illusions)

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