Existence?
In the form that is most common in rarety..... being scarce in our modern age, I can easily see the why and what for of that which has captured our attention through the ages.
The fact that words seem hardly able to even begin to demonstrate that which it possesses... that which it uses in such unmatched, unbeknownst dexterity. That small glimpse at the all through the finite. The everything within the fleeting. Such is very much evidential of the magnitude there in. Indicative of just what it is we are still so ill equipped to deal with of our own and so pleased to observe and experience.
Those examples, so few and far between of the untainted versions.... the displays of wonderment within existence that draw us so.... seem ever surrounded with those examples of that which knowingly aspires to such station. The effort itself being a sort of indication of the lack and perhaps loss of such an attribute, progressively. Such a naturally occurring state never appreciated for what it is and it's potentials, until it's been marred, changed and then desperately imitated.
Such a potential for incredible extremes of existence. Euphoria, possibilities.... Ill fates and destruction. The latter usually through the imitation and feigned pose of it.
Those claiming bravery in the action of desecration, purposeful fulfillment of their short sighted angles..... can really be nothing more than insignificant points of hatred, regardless of the damage that may ensue. The hatred arising from the repeated failures they see of themselves, in such attempts.
To know of it's existence and purposefully seek to deface it... is really not even smart business.
To clip the growing blossom. To hack from the vine, the eternal cornucopia. To fail in tending to it, in it's true form. To make such decisions without even the foresight into the greater potentials, use and ones own needs. Such can in no way be deemed a superiority in any respect. A victory in no manner what so ever, save perhaps the distraction of ones own self, down a rabbit hole of sorts.
When she smiles, you know it is really a smile. It beams and glimpses that ever existing place and reason. That breath of life. That which has been sought after through the centuries. It is only through such portals that it can ever truly be experienced, where ever, how ever and which ever form it manifests itself to be.
Those that attempt to posture as such, foresake themselves immediately. There is no successful means with which to duplicate that which is. There is further, no reason beyond ideals ignorant of such a state, to attempt such. To counterfeit existence in such a manner. There is no fooling that place from where it comes and produces it in it's natural state. It can't be forced.
Those in despair at this, have probably attempted such posturing and obviously haven't the insight to realize that "it" exists in many levels of life. In a real sense pertaining to their own facade, their own efforts and production serve only to distract themselves from the actual elements of it within their own existence. However depleted and receding those elements may be.
Existence truly holds great mystery. Great and pleasing mystery and prizes.... but only truly through those portals.... those fleeting instances where in it cultivates and rings true. No matter what tactic is used to attempt it otherwise.
It's been labeled with many names through out the ages. Most language, I suspect was derived in attempts at capturing small examples of it..... meaning itself even, all told.
Breath, Happiness, Inspiration, Good, Bad, Beauty, Ugly, Love, She, Her, Husband, Wife, Son, Daughter, Success, Failure, There, Nowhere, Here, Sad, Skilled, Talent, Truth, Life, Death, Absurdity.....
So many ways it continues to manifest.... so many ways it has been attempted to describe and depict.
Masterful works of art. Talentless scribbles in amusement.
This drivel you've just finished reading.
Copyright 2005
David A. Archer
02/15/1968
The fact that words seem hardly able to even begin to demonstrate that which it possesses... that which it uses in such unmatched, unbeknownst dexterity. That small glimpse at the all through the finite. The everything within the fleeting. Such is very much evidential of the magnitude there in. Indicative of just what it is we are still so ill equipped to deal with of our own and so pleased to observe and experience.
Those examples, so few and far between of the untainted versions.... the displays of wonderment within existence that draw us so.... seem ever surrounded with those examples of that which knowingly aspires to such station. The effort itself being a sort of indication of the lack and perhaps loss of such an attribute, progressively. Such a naturally occurring state never appreciated for what it is and it's potentials, until it's been marred, changed and then desperately imitated.
Such a potential for incredible extremes of existence. Euphoria, possibilities.... Ill fates and destruction. The latter usually through the imitation and feigned pose of it.
Those claiming bravery in the action of desecration, purposeful fulfillment of their short sighted angles..... can really be nothing more than insignificant points of hatred, regardless of the damage that may ensue. The hatred arising from the repeated failures they see of themselves, in such attempts.
To know of it's existence and purposefully seek to deface it... is really not even smart business.
To clip the growing blossom. To hack from the vine, the eternal cornucopia. To fail in tending to it, in it's true form. To make such decisions without even the foresight into the greater potentials, use and ones own needs. Such can in no way be deemed a superiority in any respect. A victory in no manner what so ever, save perhaps the distraction of ones own self, down a rabbit hole of sorts.
When she smiles, you know it is really a smile. It beams and glimpses that ever existing place and reason. That breath of life. That which has been sought after through the centuries. It is only through such portals that it can ever truly be experienced, where ever, how ever and which ever form it manifests itself to be.
Those that attempt to posture as such, foresake themselves immediately. There is no successful means with which to duplicate that which is. There is further, no reason beyond ideals ignorant of such a state, to attempt such. To counterfeit existence in such a manner. There is no fooling that place from where it comes and produces it in it's natural state. It can't be forced.
Those in despair at this, have probably attempted such posturing and obviously haven't the insight to realize that "it" exists in many levels of life. In a real sense pertaining to their own facade, their own efforts and production serve only to distract themselves from the actual elements of it within their own existence. However depleted and receding those elements may be.
Existence truly holds great mystery. Great and pleasing mystery and prizes.... but only truly through those portals.... those fleeting instances where in it cultivates and rings true. No matter what tactic is used to attempt it otherwise.
It's been labeled with many names through out the ages. Most language, I suspect was derived in attempts at capturing small examples of it..... meaning itself even, all told.
Breath, Happiness, Inspiration, Good, Bad, Beauty, Ugly, Love, She, Her, Husband, Wife, Son, Daughter, Success, Failure, There, Nowhere, Here, Sad, Skilled, Talent, Truth, Life, Death, Absurdity.....
So many ways it continues to manifest.... so many ways it has been attempted to describe and depict.
Masterful works of art. Talentless scribbles in amusement.
This drivel you've just finished reading.
Copyright 2005
David A. Archer
02/15/1968
posted by Nefarious Aflatus | Friday, April 14, 2006
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