Where do dreamers go to hide from this shameful world that shuns and makes those shy beings seem like nothing: whereas they are the blissful sons of the sun: filled with wonder and awe. I mean, to hold onto dreams is a forte only a handful of the masses can reap the rewards.
No one taught us how to dream. No one teaches us how to frown upon conformity and uphold that which lifts a universe’s cause unto the next realm of supreme structure. Nor, no one will succeed as oneself, and supersede to attain or sustain this lucid love of life mortals of our kind yield deep into the lava that flows within our core to beat the cruxes of life.
I pursue this quest, down the path that’s less traveled, just so I can sleep easy, when my soul is liberated from this soil – “our body forms”. “Unto soil man arose, unto soil he descends.” To be devoured by maggots; and skeletons left to decay, from this harsh calamity life is!
Myself, I like to think I exhibit a quantum state dream level. A multifaceted synchronicity of the sciences, literature, deep space voyages and the thirst for discoveries of the singularity. Is it all possible in one lifetime? We shall see, won’t we? If not, please when I cease to breath and my faculties stop firing; please, insert my body inside a cryogenic tube, not coffin, and let the combustion of rocket engines be witnessed as I’m propelled skywards into deep space. Where luckily, a more sophisticated intelligent species superior to man in every way, can find a way to bring me up my feet.
Don’t blame me yet, I don’t think immortality is a blessing. I’ll only seek to live as long as I have my unfinished dreams. The only honor I dream of ever attaining to my accreditation; I’ll acknowledge Alfred Nobel’s. With that, sojourn my soul to sweet rest.
See to it, that you understand how simple of pleasures I am of, the quiet strides of strolls within nature’s grasp are my peak moments in that same breathe. It’s my mind that transcends my understanding, and by this, it’s me- the soul speaking. I am of simple disposition, when it comes to matters – the heart. I believe that this symbolic organ of mine has endured so much, it now and possibly forever hides in the afterlife, since it died ages ago. For references, visit my post reincarnation genesis.
When it’s all said and done: this piece serves as an introductory to what my writing looks like for those who haven’t come across it. Please, this piece was of a weary mind mumbling. Take no offense with those proceedings, all an act of fiction.
Be an ambassador of bimri and kindly spread the word about my works, I’ll truly marvel at your heartiness.
“A Picasso” will be my first publication, and that’s only the beginning, a drop in the ocean. I have had years of writing in seclusion, though I have been challenged by a many men and women of remarkable stature in personality as well as of mind, to step out of the shadows and possibly receive a worldwide readership.
My mission is simple: to inspire whosoever reads these words, if they don’t get innately inspired as such, my goal as an author is catastrophically suffocated. Critics and cynics are allowed in society, that’s why I welcome every constructive criticism. You can be harsh or intense with your frustrations, but never rude with disdain or condescension; or disrespect.
Enjoy “A Picasso” once it launches. It’s an easy read, it’s a simple read, but oh! It’s a reflective piece of the poetry of life: romance, wisdom, pain and the Supreme.
Be ready on the 29/12/2017.
Author of A Picasso.
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