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Description
The Inner-Sanctum of Psyche

I was but a lonely soul, walking this purgatory, waiting for my salvation from this hell...then she came and saved me, pulling me ahead, and letting my eternal soul rest in the homeland from which it spawned...

I am but a man walking this lonely plane of time and flesh, to await my exaction of thine soul, and to be struck with divine wisdom, and all things from my body such as mortal thoughts and humanistic pleasures shall leave my body and my soul shall rest eternally…

To walk this Earth with no one to love, or share the pain and joys of life with, then an eternity in heaven is no such amount as true love and the knowledge that someone cares for you, and that when you leave this mortal existence, someone shall cry and that shall leave you with the comfort, that when your body is lowered into the ground, it will not be forgotten….

For one can only wander in complete darkness, to know what is complete light, and one can only wander in complete light, to know what is complete darkness, yet if they search too hard to find this darkness in search of light will only be consumed by madness, and those who search for the light too hard shall be devoured in divine responsibility… and any of those who try to stay where no one belongs, they shall perish into nothingness, and shall be forgotten in the fabric of time…

Which is more deserving of a salvation of pain, is it the youthful child who has not but seen the pain and suffering of the world, who has not felt the sting of insults by his peers, or is it the drunken fool, who stumbles the streets, begging for a coin or two, just to turn and use it to his maddening addiction, only feeding his anger and pity…

I put on a facade from day to day, to appease the giddy masses, and watch them laugh and point to make myself big, and show myself off as prominent though I know that if I were to stop, they would hound me like a raven over a scrap of food, pecking at it until it finally flies off with it, and I know the reality of it all, and no one else can truly judge me without knowing the entirety of me, which brings the question, WHY?

I am unknown, to all the people of the world, not even my closest friends, can make an accurate assumption of my true character, as for the confusing intellect of my ever perplexing mind, and all of what I do is unknown… even to me, even as this expanding universe grows and bubbles under the surface with loathe for a true hearted being, is it really there or is it just a figment of imagination, is everything a brilliantly crafted dream, for an alternate plane of existence, where one is never unknown, and everything is possible, and one can fly without ending flight… or is everything exactly as it seems, plain, boring and normal, with nowhere to express ones true individuality, with boundaries is it even possible for anything to exist, or does it limit the enduring questions, and given answers to these questions however mindless they may be… is there a place where I am known, for even to myself I am unknown in this plane of reality, so is anything real, or is it an imagination?

The days roll on for eternity, never ending, while some are slowly passing by, some speed by without a wink, and some days are filled with empty thoughts, while others are filled with aspiring ideas and admirations, and yet, somehow, feelings, such as in the realms of love, and hate, never truly pass, but do hey ever singularly shrug off, the feeling towards someone… my question is: Even though time is eternity, and feelings are planted in the hearts of many, do feelings plant as deep or are they forgotten with time, and wisp away in a slight breeze?

Why does it hurt, the pain of rejection, and of reflection, to know that you are all alone in this world, and to know that finding your one true love is out there , and the chance to see them is never going to happen, it hurts, but why does any of it hurt… I feel the pain of loss, and it stings, and though I still receive the blessings of but another doomed rejection, I will not stumble to the end of my line, pitifully, waiting for the one to fall into my life, though hoping that it will, and I will at the same time, realize, that I am alone, until I see that one person, and then I am to fall into despair, for I assume that I will have felt the stab of a thousand knives, and daggers, and won’t be able to cope with another love, or even though it is a false love, or not, it will still be a block in the mind, a tear in the heart, to know that just out of reach, they will be there, though behind bars of a forbidden love, and the guards of fate, never receiving the blessings of a true love…

I know there is a big world out there, but is it what any of us think it is… or is it a fictional place, put on the screens in front of millions of Americans, or humans, as to make the civilization quake with fear, of what there really is… is it real, a world as it appears, with death and destruction, hunger and famine, drought and floods, peace and love, harmony and care, and where people live, and are born, and die, and learn, and compete, against the odds of mortality… what are humans if this world is real, are we just a stationary post of a higher entities reign, or an image of beauty… is any of it real, any of it fake, any of it painful, any of it careful… if this “EARTH” is real, why is there torment, and why is there nurturing… if the “EARTH” is what “god” created, are we just an experiment of his cruelty, to be put through pain and suffering, or to be able to love, and hold one another under his infinite power, the universe… is this “god” cruel or kind, giving us life then taking it back, then giving us, our soul, a place to rest after the torture bestowed unto us… there is a world out there, for us, not needing an understanding of why it is there, but just to know, that it is…

Is life in the body a prison, a holding cell for our soul, our untimely, immortal soul, in which we are injured and healed, sickened and cured, crooked or straight, male or female, and unto us granted the gift of life, the tragedy of death… or is our soul, a mediate of “god” to make us feel emotions, to be able to understand what we are, and able to understand what is around us, and in us, the loving, caring, horrid, wicked minds of evil men and the body a weapon to throw at the enemy or foe to disarm them, just to prove who is right, and who is wrong, for opinions are opinions and ideas are ideas, and what I have said here, in these pages, are my interpretations of life and death, thoughts and feelings, emotions, and minds, and entities greater than us… I have spoken my mind and I am no longer burdened with the thought of…me… who am I… I am simply… ME…

Description
The Inner-Sanctum of Psyche

I was but a lonely soul, walking this purgatory, waiting for my salvation from this hell...then she came and saved me, pulling me ahead, and letting my eternal soul rest in the homeland from which it spawned...

I am but a man walking this lonely plane of time and flesh, to await my exaction of thine soul, and to be struck with divine wisdom, and all things from my body such as mortal thoughts and humanistic pleasures shall leave my body and my soul shall rest eternally…

To walk this Earth with no one to love, or share the pain and joys of life with, then an eternity in heaven is no such amount as true love and the knowledge that someone cares for you, and that when you leave this mortal existence, someone shall cry and that shall leave you with the comfort, that when your body is lowered into the ground, it will not be forgotten….

For one can only wander in complete darkness, to know what is complete light, and one can only wander in complete light, to know what is complete darkness, yet if they search too hard to find this darkness in search of light will only be consumed by madness, and those who search for the light too hard shall be devoured in divine responsibility… and any of those who try to stay where no one belongs, they shall perish into nothingness, and shall be forgotten in the fabric of time…

Which is more deserving of a salvation of pain, is it the youthful child who has not but seen the pain and suffering of the world, who has not felt the sting of insults by his peers, or is it the drunken fool, who stumbles the streets, begging for a coin or two, just to turn and use it to his maddening addiction, only feeding his anger and pity…

I put on a facade from day to day, to appease the giddy masses, and watch them laugh and point to make myself big, and show myself off as prominent though I know that if I were to stop, they would hound me like a raven over a scrap of food, pecking at it until it finally flies off with it, and I know the reality of it all, and no one else can truly judge me without knowing the entirety of me, which brings the question, WHY?

I am unknown, to all the people of the world, not even my closest friends, can make an accurate assumption of my true character, as for the confusing intellect of my ever perplexing mind, and all of what I do is unknown… even to me, even as this expanding universe grows and bubbles under the surface with loathe for a true hearted being, is it really there or is it just a figment of imagination, is everything a brilliantly crafted dream, for an alternate plane of existence, where one is never unknown, and everything is possible, and one can fly without ending flight… or is everything exactly as it seems, plain, boring and normal, with nowhere to express ones true individuality, with boundaries is it even possible for anything to exist, or does it limit the enduring questions, and given answers to these questions however mindless they may be… is there a place where I am known, for even to myself I am unknown in this plane of reality, so is anything real, or is it an imagination?

The days roll on for eternity, never ending, while some are slowly passing by, some speed by without a wink, and some days are filled with empty thoughts, while others are filled with aspiring ideas and admirations, and yet, somehow, feelings, such as in the realms of love, and hate, never truly pass, but do hey ever singularly shrug off, the feeling towards someone… my question is: Even though time is eternity, and feelings are planted in the hearts of many, do feelings plant as deep or are they forgotten with time, and wisp away in a slight breeze?

Why does it hurt, the pain of rejection, and of reflection, to know that you are all alone in this world, and to know that finding your one true love is out there , and the chance to see them is never going to happen, it hurts, but why does any of it hurt… I feel the pain of loss, and it stings, and though I still receive the blessings of but another doomed rejection, I will not stumble to the end of my line, pitifully, waiting for the one to fall into my life, though hoping that it will, and I will at the same time, realize, that I am alone, until I see that one person, and then I am to fall into despair, for I assume that I will have felt the stab of a thousand knives, and daggers, and won’t be able to cope with another love, or even though it is a false love, or not, it will still be a block in the mind, a tear in the heart, to know that just out of reach, they will be there, though behind bars of a forbidden love, and the guards of fate, never receiving the blessings of a true love…

I know there is a big world out there, but is it what any of us think it is… or is it a fictional place, put on the screens in front of millions of Americans, or humans, as to make the civilization quake with fear, of what there really is… is it real, a world as it appears, with death and destruction, hunger and famine, drought and floods, peace and love, harmony and care, and where people live, and are born, and die, and learn, and compete, against the odds of mortality… what are humans if this world is real, are we just a stationary post of a higher entities reign, or an image of beauty… is any of it real, any of it fake, any of it painful, any of it careful… if this “EARTH” is real, why is there torment, and why is there nurturing… if the “EARTH” is what “god” created, are we just an experiment of his cruelty, to be put through pain and suffering, or to be able to love, and hold one another under his infinite power, the universe… is this “god” cruel or kind, giving us life then taking it back, then giving us, our soul, a place to rest after the torture bestowed unto us… there is a world out there, for us, not needing an understanding of why it is there, but just to know, that it is…

Is life in the body a prison, a holding cell for our soul, our untimely, immortal soul, in which we are injured and healed, sickened and cured, crooked or straight, male or female, and unto us granted the gift of life, the tragedy of death… or is our soul, a mediate of “god” to make us feel emotions, to be able to understand what we are, and able to understand what is around us, and in us, the loving, caring, horrid, wicked minds of evil men and the body a weapon to throw at the enemy or foe to disarm them, just to prove who is right, and who is wrong, for opinions are opinions and ideas are ideas, and what I have said here, in these pages, are my interpretations of life and death, thoughts and feelings, emotions, and minds, and entities greater than us… I have spoken my mind and I am no longer burdened with the thought of…me… who am I… I am simply… ME…