A Slave of Love
Хозяин и работник
MASTER AND MAN
A slave of love, to love, for love. What one wouldn’t do to be master of much. At which worth does one become other or the one…ever none.
Within limited spaces we tread these bisects. One can easily waft from one to the next. Perhaps lingering in one or the other out of necessity or even want. It is not a question of restraint of some kind as may be observed in an obvious sense. It is not a question of perception, yet of something much beyond our own logical grasping.
Intelligence holds that one should become master of himself. Also, so as one enslaves…they too may become the very things they worry for, create.
From which perspective does one draw the culmination that it is not one or the other where the distinction may lie. Human sensibilities may only deadlock conclusions from limited space of the body and mind. Yet, there is something that eludes us in the brume which enclaves us.
These innate reflexes with which one takes control over some aspect of their lives, in a barren attempt to crystallize the role between master and man.
The disregard first and foremost of whom is the benefactor and what exactly is up for the offering, becomes a dance in theatrics of the mind. Perceptions of tangible means which are contrived through and within the master or man.
One must persist in the thought that they have become one or the other; too oft in the gambol of their lives. Convincing one or the other of their supposed roles and what that may define in their minds. It is an ashen expanse where one cannot truly grasp just how the other is inclined to passage their reasoning through movement.
There is a cataleptic state in which one may enter upon realizing just the power of sensing this delicate structure between perceived state of master and man. A glaze on the being through which one begins to experience some more dynamic notions of the power one holds on this state. Yet, how one is also powerless in many other faculties.
It lends itself to an inner accord in the self. A connection to a seemingly disassociated contemplation. The unfastened and broken fragments between master and man, begin to connect themselves in a nobler order of the misrule.
In a larger depiction of the terrene which surrounds us, bridges us movingly towards itself…ourselves and ultimately, others.
The role of master and man…one waits ever so calmly for the role to appear. For if not one, master of much, then the other…
Only fables present the world as it should be and as if it had meaning.
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