My Imaginarium

Soul and Meat

All be it. Movement envelopes and shrinks and expands. The thread of eternity demands observation, and the skill of foresight demands praise. Develop the unknowable mystery of thyself- myself screams. The ocean ray, sun beam, blue reflector of the deep, the world of beautiful mutation, linked together and supported by a thousand fates. Weaved by a caring hand. I do not sit without first standing, and I deliver when asked to. My rebellion flees as I strip away the layers, the rhythmic pounding of heart and soul grow louder, the truth turns unsayable as it is refined, purified, and tempered. Replace what you think is comfortable, and discover the meaning of decay. The world ebbs and flows and no one belongs on it, or to it. The beast has allowed us to ride, and we expected it to jump on command. We expect life to reveal convenience as its meaning, when it has ignored us from the beginning. We are soul and meat, and both are able to die.