More than Words !

It's hard to explain, much harder to tell- dare I say a word dare a word be spoken,. It's almost like trying to solve the perennial puzzles of soul, magnetized into the overwhelming response of heart, not so vividly spoken, yet told. I am incapable of articulating the expansion of feelings, just a wise symphony of a deeper awe. And this feel of universal splendor taking over my perplexed soul. Why is it so? Because you are rendering a parallel polarization of magnification and allure, where I am pointing to insightfully profound sense of beauty that holds me when I am around your lure. Thank you oh, beautiful soul. It's an absolute grace. And your presence is enchanting waves of euphoria to behold.

Naturally, I can place various images in your head. Dolphins. Cats. Batman. First love. Sex. Mountains. Stars. Best friend. Mother. Cats again. You see, we together can rave inside our heads, we can portray an imagination that can lead us to the mysteries of universe. We can time travel. We can warp black holes in the very fabric of our neurons. We can immortalize ourselves by the very gesture of thinking. We can pinpoint poetry to the elementary foundation of rudimentary atoms. We can become atomic reactors synchronizing, exploding and expounding the morphic fields of our resonant being, and in doing so 'we evolve'. We are the constant evolution of imagination. We can take screenshots of our reality and merge them together to direct a film called life. We are life bearers. We are light bearers. We carry the torch of inertia, of thermodynamics and of the ultimate gods. Of pandora's box. Of Egyptian, Babylonian, Sumerian, Vedic Aztec and Himala

When head heeds emptiness like strings of vibratory feelings crossing  the [PATH] of emotional tantrums- you see, for the first time how the ego plays  the songs of desire. This here (this thing)  is the cradle of hope.  A fierce stationary junction  where 'your existence' remains unknown.  Where you can't find authenticity.  Where you see stupidity crawling inside your spines.  Where you are halfway alive, halfway dead.  This is the palace of melancholia.  Here, you mourn your untimely death.  Some many of 'once upon a time' has passed here. So many times, you have died a death  not meant for you.  This might sound as a dismal theme, a dreadful humour engraved inside a shell of tragedy.  where humanity is a pretentious whore,  and humans are depressed to the very core- there I shall ask him,  if this is where he belongs? or does he have a choice? Read a book or two, read Kierkegaard he would make a little