And Eternity Passed

christianity expects people to exist with a degree of seriousness that envies a monks'.
in fact so does intellectualism, existentialism, socialism & the many other isms produced from the human society. of these existentialist being the base for all other isms, so, a worthier goal to choose from among the rest. to deal with its pointlessness is to unravel each an every mystery lying hidden under every other rock. Soon one becomes cupid dressed in flowing robes, with a silver sword forged in the depths of his soul & the commanding speech of wise oak trees, waltzing around the busy battlefields overturning dead rocks, only to find apsaras of truth wrapped in a delicacy of sublime skins revealing themselves to you in every moment of your quest.
During the journey, the worldly wise ask for the answers & you shake your head truthfully convinced about the inevitability of everything! and there, isolated from all that naiive hope we collect all through out our lives, we quietly expand & fill up the space that belongs to us & then some begin to pour out of their pores. some fill up the air with ditsy euphoria, some even grow branches. i became my own friend & my own foe. then i became tormented & obsessed by the very same things i was once passionately fascinated about.
i spent eternity locked in a kind of fiction. First, of the world, with liberating results & then with myself. the possibility of the fiction's self effacing quality revealed itself & that is where the sad note in the music began & all the apsaras dissapeared. blibbering blabbering cupid turned back into a chubby little cheerub & searched for his mama.

i shudder at the thought.