I've died to many things and many things have died in me.

I've died to many things and many things have died in me. Far from Weltschmerz. My romantic passion of pushing forward and falling, falling and falling until a crash. Still giving faith to a comfortable end. Pursuing a better teaching, more learning, and a wide-spread seduction. A seduction to others, a seduction to instill others in a love for another place. A new Jerusalem, a higher knowledge, the end to cycles. A cycle of reincarnations, rebirths, new deaths, "stinketh" no more. Away from cyclical forms and finally determined reach of the spiral staircase.

Every time, once again, to find it dies within me. Stumbling gracefully into the Penrose. Wholly ascending and descending... holy ascending/descending... graciously ascending-descending... A perpetual cyclonic machine, the canary in the coal mine. Awaiting the tune to drop. Inseparable naivety to the inseparable ego. Perhaps lost or found in wonderful disillusionment or utter bliss.

I killed IT. My dear brothers as I was, quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry at times. Others I was also, hardly listening, johnny on the spot to speak and the same was I in anger. My anger did not produce righteousness that was desired. The moral filth and evil that was prevalent to me wasn't accepting any words planted in me and never saved me. At the moment, neither did the words I accept save me for they caused more confrontation. They are me'rely words with many definitions we argued and debated. Even though I use them now.

I do still wish to listen, speak well and rarely be angry. To just be and love, to just be and love... as was originally intended.