The jealousy there is, of people between mirrors
Sometimes, I just suddenly had a thought there is. About the sharpness of life, about the polar of fate.
To be bounded by time means to streak of decay one can get. Of the light, the eye sees yet firmly receive broken in chains. Of the expectation for the replenishment, vile and chaotic of energy, of food, of partial meals. To then be exposed, of the ultimate relative, for where time anyone to experience, yet seemingly different apart. Even though of all things, the world keep moving, yet there are some behinds, some forward, of the time never taken aback, of the time never wished to flow so long. Is it, true, truly of such, that being in relativity, to stretch yourself into the absolute light chase, means something as living of a thousand life? Or, it is both, of the flow inescapable force of nature, the inevitable yet worthwhile decay in period, but flowing so fast, for memories we never experience be away, of those we know, whom we are with, to never know what they are, yet, seemingly stand in front of them?
Our example of the astronaut are always of which they are in the distant star, brought jealousy of the frontier most can never attain. Yet, has there be, of any given soul, to see of which two faces are front of one, to see in the speck of time, for the brother to see his kin a hundred years apart in a blink of cruel eye? Why such is always ignored? Why such, painfully as it is, hidden under romanticism of the ‘uneducated’ therebe, not of knowledge, nor in any given sense justified to call them stupid, but the blind, of their emotion taken ahold?
How is god to be in this world? Of the forever question that one always ask, of the profound sounding of which to say in exhale, of which there is to finally reside both the spectacle, both the happiness, looming there be luck, for the badness of this world befall upon such person, of which fate are there to say “I am wrong, thereby I am bounded of the fate there is”? Should such be question, where and what is this god, for him so benevolent that he is to be neither good or bad but both, but not both, for he a living, yet dead, contradiction, and the escape of those being desperate of the negans, to rest assure on the responsibility them shouldered through their impoverished existence, through all, of all, for the oh my, of the oh god?
Will, it be so trivial, that there is to say of the form it takes apart, be mundane as a wish of a man. To be having goodness, thus godness, means to be created from desperation. If, it is of a mother to try saving her son, logic are there to dictate her to give trust and respite to those in profession of saving them, or claimed thereof - whether resource, whether knowledge, whether being the past arbiter of death itself. Such being doctor, being the billionaire down the street, be the public, of the thousand voice and the endless cranes. But just as fragile of a paper crane there be, she knows of her limit, providing of the fact she is not blind of provision, the mortal limit of the doctor, for him to have the same hand, of which he can fail, for what he does not know, and so the billionaire, of what he has no access, of profundity he brings none to what apparent and given of. So, she stretched outward.
Search for what transcend the mortals, the term now stated, of omniscience, be created, in the figure of the man, for all he knows is the man, the women, would it be so under traditional dogma as the blasphemy to say human forces gods to be of their form. After such, then it be simple, because for a mother to experience such, of which relative to what there are of the civilization she is in, unrecognized and insignificant she is, then there shall be of many, for all, to given in to such desire, of the dread, of perhaps normal hunger, of the curse to feeding for survival, of the failures anyone are there to see and to feel of it, lies on the skins, etched to the meat. Religion can be easily manifested as that. Whether god truly exists, be it wishful thinking, be it ontology. That is irrelevant for the mortal soul, for his mind already settled of assertions either way.