For those that walk amongst us and those that pass us by…
There is a slow drain of the purity…which with one finds in themselves the will to pursue alive.
In the infancy of this unadulterated form, lies a beauty that few will understand. The more one has counted the time and the lack of their being, the farther they may get from any discernment therein.
For in each and every life form, there is a designed yet natural state. It is the state to persist beyond life and to draw from the effect of the elusiveness…the will to drive oneself back to this , the purest of elements. Infancy cannot be returned.
Like many that grappled before…there is the slow draw of the blood. Gradually, nibbling inside.
A parasitic appetite to feast on that which lives and breathes, in the most natural of forms.
Those without lifeblood, seek to extract others of this inner well. And it is only with a small amount of dispensation, with which they will slowly begin the process.
It is these vultures of bound reason which asphyxiate the purest of life’s breath.
It is these vultures of seeming perception and calm which create outer lawlessness, so that one begins to lose their way…farther from themselves.
For every step towards life…there is one closer to the stillness of being.
And for the stillness that cannot persist, there is the rot alive…
Those that walk amongst us, yet truly breathe no form.
Those that pass us by and create stains that metamorphose into chasms of ultimate despair, into which one day one may fall and become much like them.
It is easier to rot alive…then to chase the purity which is closest to us, for in the stillness of being one can sense the impending flux, that is lifeblood re-entering and revives us of the rot encountered all around.
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