måndag 21 Mar 2011, 14:36
Jack of all , master of none.
We stood there witnessing an endless abyss of time that rushed through our collective subconscious , hinting a lonesome onset . Perhaps a calculative series of psychological safety measures inherited by the inordinate illusions prevalent in all our unspoken dreams. Beyond the oblivion these dreams flow without an apparent reason , without a soul and without a name. We embrace this resonance of unknown in our own subjective ways yet oblivious to the most obvious . Existence is random whose randomness is wider than a black hole that can wrap millions of suns inside its dark wings.
Indeed , the world is just a fragment of ordinary perception like the above experiencing itself randomly.