Y2: Day 9 (Teach Something) Life Is The Existence Of Matte

Life is the existence of matter and mass combined with energy.  However, if one tries to escape from the atrocities haunting him, he’ll only delve deeper into the darkness creating convulsive shadows.  For he is the whole of the sum, not the sum of the whole.  To think abstractly about the message he tries to convey to the world shall open up minds and foster all who strive to walk hand in hand in his light.

Light dwelling in the capacity for learning is the highest decree on can master outside of himself, but he must first look to himself to find it.  For it is the preamble leading to the clustered souls burning in the desert sun.  As long as his misery persists, he shall continue to feed on his anguish.  However, most of the time it is the other way around.  Many are destroyed by their own addictions.

Darkness hovers over the beds at night when they sleep, absorbing concrete evidence burning through the core of man’s desires.  Bold and commenced, his ways leading him toward a greater tomorrow feed his hungry soul.  He is impassioned by his own existence and the feeling of being alive.  However, it only lasts through his time of credence.

Man enters the stage of life in all of his innocence, striving to exit with a greater understanding not only about himself, but about humanity as a whole.  The lessons build upon his heart and are imprinted into his mind.  They are carried into the light with him to share all truths in the ways of his inner power attained from up above in the merciful hands of the Lord.

For so many years, I struggled internally to find peace.  I looked outside of myself to find it, but all I found was more treachery and darkness from violent tendencies of those who chose to afflict pain and torture at home.  So, I shut into myself.  There is no clavicle in the darkness.  There is only fear feeding upon the heart, mind, soul, and spirit until all light is burned out.  The heart is bled out, the mind is shattered, the soul is withered to shreds, and the spirit is broken by tyrant voices.

In the winter, the bare limbs of the trees reach out to the milky sky to caress the chill of cold.  All around the earth the ground is blanketed by snow with only spurts of green from the grass trying to peek out.

For every song there is a dreamer, and for every dreamer there is a light burning within them.  However, it can only be emitted through positive energy dwelling in the atmospheric pulse which beats along the serrated edge.  If only the hearth would continue to burn.  It can only reach its highest degree, but can never spread its warmth throughout the globe.  Its capacity to warm can only reach so far.

There are the minds of illusion which fester to the top of the cream in one’s coffee.  He drinks it, letting it absorb into this bloodstream which ignites an energy of pep.  His dance of the heart begins, and his capacity to love is festered; yet, the song he sings bleeds into the quick of the heart.  For every tear falling to the ground there is a burst of heat festering.  It waits to melt into man’s flesh, singing his heart, leaving its mark imprinted upon him once more.

How long must the mask of the sentinel drink his wines of sorrow.  For isn’t a pacer for leading him further into his darkened forest.  Is there no escape from all which haunts him and taunts him along his journey towards obtaining enlightening in the highest glory.

Where is the sun to lead in song when his hollow log echoes along weeping streams filled with red.  For the color red is life, death, a velvet rose, a force to give off warmth in the coldest hours of the night.  Yet, to follow in ruptured paths shall only leak out hearts of the vain striving to beat down the whole of humanity with their strings.  These attachments exceed all their fellow man can give in the broken seeds.

For my preamble is the march into the blazing fires of the sun.  I see the light and walk through your barricade bringing me down into sanity where reality speaks volumes into my heart.

Burn, burn, burn you light into me, and let it feed on my spirit.  For it is time to be awakened by thunder and lightening building in the quick of your clouds.  Bang!  Bang!  Bang!  I’ve fallen into the earths crust.  I’m buried alive.  My soul hungers for essence in His light.  For he is the life giving spirit I chose to rise with and let my woes feed on the earth.

For there is no magnitude to fight the power building inside concave walls.  I only know of the walking stick holding me up.  Yet, I collapse when I no longer have strength left to hold onto and brace against.  Is there no light to heal up the burns tyrants tore into years and years ago?  All which is left now is the heart.  I feed only aching tears.  Their oily sustenance quenches my thirst for life; yet, their salt burns my throat, leaving a rawness which shall never heal.

Where is the sum of the whole now?  It is in the desert walking alone in the blistering heat.  There is no song to call him whole.  There is only a body of land pushing his heart to move on into the burning rays of the sun.  His throat is like sandpaper.  The roof of his mouth is like glue, holding his tongue prisoner.  For his prison is the outdoors bringing his closer and closer to death’s door while the sun continues to feed upon his spirit.

“Just a little further.  Not much more.  I’ll make it to the cave before nightfall,” he mutters to himself while stumbling onto the ground.  His heart sinks further and further into the sands of time.  All his heart wants is the light to heal his wounded soul.  If only he could find what he’s looking for within himself.

© Copyright, Kiki Stamatiou, 2016

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