I feel it slowly building... rising slowly... now brimming at the surface, a mixture I had worked so hard to conceal ready to pour out. I had perceived that so-called perfection could only be attained by creating a facade so that I could fool corruption. For when corruption prevails it thrives more so than angels who (having struck down demons and monsters that haunt the earth) sit in their golden chariots built out of glory.
So many elements had been tried and tested and extracted to make this concoction. Having trod well beyond the borders of danger, I returned determined in hypothesizing (and proving right) that safety was at the core of life: danger when it explodes delivers shrapnel to the soul, pain followed sadness and then regret in its entirety. It wasn't long before such sensations wreaked havoc upon my mind, so much so that functioning no longer existed like that loving relationship between two people who have fallen for each other and upon its inception unfolds a stable trail of clarity and coherence. It wasn't mine and I yearned for it wanted to grasp it, clutch it hold it close without the chance of escape.
And so I devised a method and the experimenting began. First I dabbled in solitude beck and call was my own to expend. Next I pursued self indulgence, lavishing no other but myself. Into the mix came ignorance and the world and all it held suddenly had no flaw. I had control, untangled that web and used the thread to redraw something so straight and steady.
But hypothesizing is fallible, perfection dependent upon experimentation and I...I had got the whole thing wrong. Acting, playing out the motions concealing the feelings underneath- I didn't allow them to surface to take in a breath of life. My actions were practiced according to definition but were without meaning, I was a phony and it was worse than those shrapnel inflicting explosions of danger.
Back then, I was alive, I could feel pain and sadness and regret but lost were those other sensations; the ones that arise with the wake of dawn where dusk beforehand gave darkness permission to begin that process of renewal- (death and destruction now come to a close,the setting of the sun signals the soldiers' slumber, once awakened he is filled with hope and happiness for no foe is in sight) I had lost it all.
The result is now clear and I understand now I was so disillusioned in my manipulation, my neglection, that turning the blind eye. For every negative there is a positive and that is the conclusion, my resolution.
And knowing this (that building and rising still brimming, suspended, waiting) I let it pour out for the world to see breaking down the foundations of this facade. And angels in chariots golden-built from glory seem to be closer in the face of corruption.
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