When you seek the meaning but you lose the essence. And you squeeze the remaining scent of the mist that you breathe. And you realize that the mist comes from within, from your scentless ideals. The mundane becomes shallow, the unique and special also become shallow, trivial, without a higher meaning. When not even the internal battle doesn’t bleed out anymore the paradoxical mist we are living on, and that flows through us. There is no flesh and there is no spirit left. And no life and no death can fix that. Vicious circle of constant overachievement and comprehension of higher ideals and life goals by denying all the existence’s knowledge, a revolution at the creation level, at the highest level one can ever achieve. Simplified complexity. But you, mystic exotism of pure passion, you are a mist bloomer in your beautifulness of mind, soul and materialization. I live on your mist. I crave your mist. My conceptual eagerness to advance in knowledge and energy is dreadful and your mist is feeding my soul. My mind. My materialization. A youthful revival with such a passion and joyfulness that the darkness of my black hole of pain sings the wave of your mist. Perfection, sensuality, mystery, danger, passion, fire. You are pure energy in its blooming spring of purity. The wave of your mist is keeping me in the trance of your love. Of real love. (©OAS2014) https://youtube/watch?v=ttmrTZqH0do
Posted on: Mon, 22 Dec 2014 08:25:03 +0000
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