Tuesday, January 21, 2014

and the mountains caved

and the mountains caved.

like how we use to when our lives were apart and undecided kismet was not yet set, to part. to part and impart the story that would become the epic saga of our lives. as before and as if like it was, we will not falter in any matter, under no circumstance that could hinder us. like the cave that was once before, majestic in its ardor and splendour, like how we are before our after.

as it will always do. in times of great distress, in the dark recesses of our recess. where we will obsess on how things are there to be clear and to be of infinite process. whereas things are not as simple as it seems. they are the lost listless hope of the process that requires the fall into oblivion and the prerequisite of the mental anonymity amongst the leagues and scores of innuendos and euphemisms created through this tundra of a cold and desolated land.

as we thrive through this pass of reticence, we will weave through a sort of sleep for lovers. an asylum forever in our heads the perfect seam and sieve that holds and binds us into this threadlike and intrinsic revel of revelations. this is the regard and the synonym to the cerebral connotations that our irises might leave, at the corner of our eye. where we will blink and in every point of time we will never miss, who we once were.

we care not of words that time forgot. only mere colloquial conundrums that seemed alien to us. the hushed tones in alien tongues, introduced to our limbic ether, in our regions of the nether. the sheer clear of it all, our transparent fall. that only offers the solitary ambiguity that we seize and take charge of between the hours of none and therefore we become one. we make things and forget that to make we beget the wheel that spins our will into the ultimate chrysalis-like catharsis that we so desperately need in the help to achieve our static sigh belief.

there will be a time where, we will meet consequence on the veranda of the heart and we will go and inquire of matters that from and beyond fruition come to pass in an exalting threshold of deliberative tug and pull of sentient things.

in pure dismiss, we will miss our start and the little pieces that we mend on our little hearts. even at taut, even in a sort of furore that caught ethereal bliss. the surreal sanctuary our minds will mould into. like the discussion of telepathical miracles. guessing and making innuendos with euphemisms effortlessly in our minds. in the simplest of things that being us, we will be one and next to zero none. our own objects of singularity in our chase of existence objectivity. rhythmic algorithmic colloquy is where we venture and there it will be our conjecture to puncture the reality that surfaced on a surface of parallel universes. in thought, this will be the mathematical desire of our lives, that would transpire into the end of what we need to send, without a sense of retire. that sense of temporal judgement on temporary troubles of visionary abandonment.

this things that we shall acquire, will look on to transpire into the sure fire power of jet fuel and desire. the food to our already traditional trade of bitter tirades and the things that we shall forget in future promises unkept and forgotten.

and to this end, will we still crave, as like in the past the mountains still cave?


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