The fire hanging on the wall
Is gripping for its life
I highlighted the thoughts which bother me not.
Very few, they lie in the backroom, their cellmate is a psychotic, delusional truth-whisperer. Schizophrenic is not enough said. He hides in the shadow of a hanging branch. The tree of the soul puts emphasis on this branch. I don't know why, but that's the truth. It's an inside job. My job is to seek the truth and ask why. But who am I asking? They say "Be careful with your thoughts because you are speaking with the universe". But who IS the universe? Is it a being inhabited by my thoughts? Does it even acknowledge my material form? We live in infinite complexity and we limit ourselves as much as we can. The paradox of consciousness is infinite in its stubbornness to comprehend the true nature of truth and love.
Illusion's hair has a nice scent, magically pulling you towards unconsciousness. The clock ticks until you can't hear it anymore.
