O2

Alive, or just breathing? I inhale a deep, wonderful gasp of air, and as my lungs deplete the oxygen from it, my body is nourished. Tiny blood vessels in my lungs pump these oxygen molecules into the chambers of my heart, thus delivering it to various parts of my body. Throughout my entity, this oxygen is used to create energy for whatever function is programmed: My brain writes the software for these programs. With this I now have the capacity of thought, with which I may solve problems, communicate, create, learn, etc. And so, I owe this all to oxygen? My sustenance? The giver of life? Or just breath...

Sense

Perfection is flexible. Ignorance is permanent. Exasperation prevails into silence, unacknowledged. Corrections are never thoroughly fulfilled, but overlooked by most, forgotten by many, and poorly upkept by few. Fear is tangible, passion is elusive, and virtue is limited. Power beckons corruption while the truth creates a lie, and acceptance rises from the ashes of a dormant flare, silently slumbering through time as the cataclysm comes to pass. The disastrous oncoming yields no anticipation as it tiptoes through the reeds, slowly but surely sufficing the end that draws nearer and nigh.

Our Father, Who Art in Heaven...

Where would we be without God? Or, perhaps, where would God be without us? Without us, God would be nothing--He would have no one to worship Him, or follow Him, and He would utterly die. God needs us to sustain and convey His word, for it is we who have kept Him alive through time. He is extant only through our doing, and, therefore, He depends on us. We as humans have made Him who He is today, who He was in the beginning, and whoever He may become hereafter.
In consummation, we are each our own God, for we all perceive Him in perfectly different ways. You create the image of God in your mind, and there He becomes a part of you. You are God: We are ALL God! We think and believe and act and feel in a way that somehow reflects our faith in Him, and we use that as a guideline to suffice the contentions that are otherwise left unanswered.
He is our escape from the truth; He shields us from the very light that He ostensibly emanates. He is who He has been for centuries past and centuries to come: Our Father, the One who attempts to hold us back from our natural passions for "our own good;" the One who tells us, "No," because He doesn't agree. As children mature and begin to understand that not everything their parents say and do are right, we have the opportunity of life to break free of this condemning God we have created, and to search within ourselves to discover what we truly love the most.
Remember, you are God. It is you who bears the power to adjudge what is right and what is wrong for yourself; you have the capacity to learn and form your own opinions, make use of your bounty! As you now have it, it may surely someday leave your possession... So, which will you choose: Freedom, or fascism? Will you follow those who have endlessly bowed down to others, or will you create your own path through the vicious ambiguity of the shadows, ultimately satisfying God more than any dutiful idolization ever has, or ever will? The discretion is in your hands, the time is now, and the truth shall certainly set you free.

E.X.I.S.T.

E.verlasting,
X.
I.s
S.omething
T.rivial



With a trembling silence tiptoeing in my bones; the bending light criss-crossing, zig-zagging about my physique and all that entails it; the perforations of my integument perspiring a soulful sweat, dripping into a pool of memory; I breathe an endless cycle of exchanging glances--gawking stares, everlasting. X, representing an endless entity of commodities so unimaginable, is something totally trivial; so perpetually indifferent to us that, in sense, we perceive it as real.

Gaze

How do you know anything when you don't even know yourself? Reflections of reality invade my retina and therein spawns an understanding of familiar perceptions. A transmitting postal service scouts along the fringes of my notions, preventing my escape. With only longing gazes through this transparently blood-stained pane, I imagine what it might feel like to be free.