Enso, and so, we quiet our internal ramblings...breathe. Feel the warm air gently massage our throats as the universal energy fills our body. Nerves fire, shivers from our crown to our ground. A subtle smile breaks the face of the statue. As the marble crumbles away, our inner volume increases..."DEPRESSION...FIND PURPOSE..." and as if they never existed, all is quiet. Like it was all we were meant to do, we sweep our hardened hands through the clouds. Some store ego here...not us. We use these clouds for strength, they serve as the very grip we hold onto life with. Again..focus. The commands of those who have come before us shout at us from all angles. Enso. Our mind quiets, our focus shifts. The iron in hand, we lift our crown to the heavens with the load we carry every day. It breaks us. NO. We. break. it. Men and women alike have failed at the knurling. That does not make them weak. It is merely a testament to time under tension. Our ironclad gears harden, we can't feel where we stop and the universe starts. And for a brief moment... everything is perfect. We need no purpose here. There is no vacancy for emotion up here.
October 8th 2014, 10:28 pm