All that pain is not yours to caress alone, or perhaps it is, just as it is mine. How generous are we with our fortunes and how closely we treasure our afflictions and their infliction?
There was nothing to me,bound and unbound that you could fathom. as unfathomable. Mostly if not all that led you to me was misplaced ardor and the lingering of it in a chasm as pertaining to the least of logic and the last of nous.I think I knew it from the first knock at my door. Intuition does trigger a thought but I stop intellect from ravaging it's probabilities. The interest was my interest.This is no accusation though, not to be taken as any offence. I would only be glad if it were confirmed, I do understand.
Insensate to stabs of the blade that the wounds you left were, you knew. You could not believe that the insensate were loved and the insensate could yield to healing but you did try, undoing and doing with all that you had created and all that you had destroyed. Understood, Indeed very understandable.Not shirking from the blames that were flinching at your mention.
Here are your blames and mine:
.When you fill a void with concrete, you first shovel the earth, no matter how lose the soil, here is matter leaving it's land, with the roots that were deep, sown seeds and all that was as endowed by nature.You can plunder it and the land will not wince, unearth it all and sink them into oceans but tell me how would you ever synthesize the same soil, with the roots placed at the same heart and the seeds sown exactly as they were meant to be. What were you looking for? A haven ? In the familiarity of the simulations that were created by a force or testing a passion in equivalence, solace in the sufferings of the insufferable, as we are known.
More importantly how would you destruct the block of concrete , it was not concrete but quicksand(an amalgamation gone wrong in it's immature state), it pulled in all that it could and all that was , the structure you tried to built atop,they tumbled into the pit and were lost in the depths you dug.
In parallel was built a wall. at the periphery of the pit that was a bottomless swamp.Immunity to a devastated land. The structure used the raw concrete , leftover from your resources and bound by the disposition to cover and not fill the void that did exist. The void all bubbling of waste that was never meant to be, radical reactions often lead to such miscalculated errors that lead to such disasters.
You did not have a solution? how could you? still the facade of the problem remains, The wall. that was conquerable ,was it not?So I thought, so you knew and so each one through the forces, not concurrent but still parallel tried to mow down the structure.Our estimation did fall and rise but the wall was intact. (Though I admit, I once felt that by the nick of a chance a few bricks had been removed and vents were created.)
I was wrong , not in my attempts, my intentions but my methods. The complexities that are owing to my own experiments, my own volition and my own belief, that nothing is irreversible do not apply to the simplicity that it was...once done, never undone. Something that stands created by the hand of something so staunchly divine, so perfect in it's existence , sculptured stone, never changes. Perfection that you are. Perfection that you want.While I ,human and fallible, discovering and undiscovered, yonder from the points that I know are to be sought.
Yet I obliged myself with this staunch belief, that if I had a belief it could pertain to things outside my own microcosm.I was not wrong in this. The time was wrong, very wrong.
We share the passion for not just the object but the proving of our theories on the object, that is wrong, very wrong, indeed.
If all that you are is perfect and all that I am is in search of perfection only, there will be no proving further. As for the Obelisk that stands,do not thwart your attempts at bringing it to life but for that be alive. For someone so resistant to change , how would it be brought to another?
Also, we forgot, the regard for the person beyond that object......
'Want'..'.it is all about the want' could or could not be coterminous. Still, I trust that you would know better. I for all that I am still am the distant observer who just observed...but passionately. The masterpiece was not my to own or to modify, I knew.
There was nothing to me,bound and unbound that you could fathom. as unfathomable. Mostly if not all that led you to me was misplaced ardor and the lingering of it in a chasm as pertaining to the least of logic and the last of nous.I think I knew it from the first knock at my door. Intuition does trigger a thought but I stop intellect from ravaging it's probabilities. The interest was my interest.This is no accusation though, not to be taken as any offence. I would only be glad if it were confirmed, I do understand.
Insensate to stabs of the blade that the wounds you left were, you knew. You could not believe that the insensate were loved and the insensate could yield to healing but you did try, undoing and doing with all that you had created and all that you had destroyed. Understood, Indeed very understandable.Not shirking from the blames that were flinching at your mention.
Here are your blames and mine:
.When you fill a void with concrete, you first shovel the earth, no matter how lose the soil, here is matter leaving it's land, with the roots that were deep, sown seeds and all that was as endowed by nature.You can plunder it and the land will not wince, unearth it all and sink them into oceans but tell me how would you ever synthesize the same soil, with the roots placed at the same heart and the seeds sown exactly as they were meant to be. What were you looking for? A haven ? In the familiarity of the simulations that were created by a force or testing a passion in equivalence, solace in the sufferings of the insufferable, as we are known.
More importantly how would you destruct the block of concrete , it was not concrete but quicksand(an amalgamation gone wrong in it's immature state), it pulled in all that it could and all that was , the structure you tried to built atop,they tumbled into the pit and were lost in the depths you dug.
In parallel was built a wall. at the periphery of the pit that was a bottomless swamp.Immunity to a devastated land. The structure used the raw concrete , leftover from your resources and bound by the disposition to cover and not fill the void that did exist. The void all bubbling of waste that was never meant to be, radical reactions often lead to such miscalculated errors that lead to such disasters.
You did not have a solution? how could you? still the facade of the problem remains, The wall. that was conquerable ,was it not?So I thought, so you knew and so each one through the forces, not concurrent but still parallel tried to mow down the structure.Our estimation did fall and rise but the wall was intact. (Though I admit, I once felt that by the nick of a chance a few bricks had been removed and vents were created.)
I was wrong , not in my attempts, my intentions but my methods. The complexities that are owing to my own experiments, my own volition and my own belief, that nothing is irreversible do not apply to the simplicity that it was...once done, never undone. Something that stands created by the hand of something so staunchly divine, so perfect in it's existence , sculptured stone, never changes. Perfection that you are. Perfection that you want.While I ,human and fallible, discovering and undiscovered, yonder from the points that I know are to be sought.
Yet I obliged myself with this staunch belief, that if I had a belief it could pertain to things outside my own microcosm.I was not wrong in this. The time was wrong, very wrong.
We share the passion for not just the object but the proving of our theories on the object, that is wrong, very wrong, indeed.
If all that you are is perfect and all that I am is in search of perfection only, there will be no proving further. As for the Obelisk that stands,do not thwart your attempts at bringing it to life but for that be alive. For someone so resistant to change , how would it be brought to another?
Also, we forgot, the regard for the person beyond that object......
'Want'..'.it is all about the want' could or could not be coterminous. Still, I trust that you would know better. I for all that I am still am the distant observer who just observed...but passionately. The masterpiece was not my to own or to modify, I knew.
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