Ending The 'Quest'
Looking and searching, searching and looking, time after time and *still* no end comes to our doorstop. No end comes to greet us whereby we may simply and plainly bring to closure our eternal Quest for Victory. Claiming ownership, we battle ourselves to the death and then do it repeatedly, never letting on that we are anything but ‘free’.
‘Free’ to do battle with ourselves, with others, with everything. But that is what battles are for, are they not? Reigning supreme we glory in our victory and victories. Surely it is what makes it all so worthwhile to dive deeply into the Abyss of our Nature. Creating the right atmosphere differentiates us from our barbaric roots. A fresh, new, coat of paint does wonders, does it not?
As Emperor we take pride in our dress and all others to bow before us, suckling like the pigs that they are. Beneath contempt, we hide ourselves in our emotions, succumbing to the thought and word, and unfailingly ignoring the deed. Twisting homage, we pay no attention to our actions, freeing ourselves from definition and exposure. If we so believe in ourselves, surely others will as well.
Coming to terms with ourselves requires not only conviction and duration but an endless supply of patience. In time, all things happen, out of time, all things occur. Waiting, and all that it contains, is such a childish game. Questing for ever-lasting and creating the road before us requires the shuffling movement of our feet.
Before you know it, you’re somewhere else.
What could possibly be there that can not be here, unless of course, one is not here to begin with. Always thinking of other times, other places, solidifies the echo and upon hearing the call, delusion sets in.
Stretching attention out into the wasteland, yearning for the fruits of desire, will get you no-where very quickly and efficiently. But that is the point, is it not?
Look! There goes Elvis!