Never could I think that this loneliness was so great, enumerating thoughts of great stress,

Of abstract personifications, of concrete voided warranties nulled by the experience of life,

Of qualified destruction.

Never would the trees have fallen had I not brought the axe to their body and dominated,

Never would I have ever thought that I were as powerful as I am not, as powerful as I wish,

Naught of such a day could ever come.

And when I look back behind me, upon the regrets and pains that have made my life be,

I can almost feel the chain links being added on, to the point where I can almost feel my effect,

But I can not deny these feelings.

And I would be tempted to even cry, when I see the beauty cringing before me, and the harsh,

The abrasive hatred scratching away the surface of what used to be the wonders of the world,

Everything is constantly falling.

Seen through such eyes, I have enumerated the experiences of a life, that lengthens itself,

And at each given moment, constantly directs itself to the fatalistic end that is expected of all,

I can feel your eyes, your tears.

When I reach out to the sky, and hope to grasp upon a ledge that just isn't there, I sigh,

For the wasted effort just exerted, for the wishes that were rejected because of the truth,

Can they ever be truly heard?

Falling down through the apex, you once were the rising point of freedom, but enslaved,

You are the enthrallment of your own problems, your issues will define your life and defy,

See the falsities that you will create.

Robotic rhythm rakes at your ear, raving here, will you hear? Far or near, I fear,

Such words seem splendid, yet, still sordid, sullied, twisted simply into a web,

Fear fails to falsify your feelings.

Are the words that were once in your mind no longer there, for fear of no longer having need?

Or are they bound by necesseties, bound there by a feeling that they must always be such?

Growing inside of you, will you be limited?

Too many words will be said in the process of this existence, and you will be a function of each,

Or rather, each will be a function of you, of every living being that ever could, would have been,

Inside of you, the world is defined.

Trees are growing inside of your mind, the seeds of a new generation set by your willpower,

Chaining events together, perhaps some day you will begin to feel the sadness, the piety,

The elation, the supreme satisfaction, the growing need to escape, and yet, the growin need to stay,

The wounds, the balms, the healing from the divine, the feeling of being your own, of being none,

Of belonging to the world, but yet denying the enslavement wrought upon you by the release of birth,

Of fading back into the grass that surrounds your earth, of becoming the essentially sublime,

Of defining your own new regime, without the limitations that this physical dystopia imposes upon you,

Returning to your true womb, nurtured by the sweet embrace of the green, the blue, the clear,

The visible, the clouds and the trees, the grass and the dirt, the herbivores, carnivores, omnivores,

The predators and their prey, the world will stop for you, and it will never notice the dissonance,

The disturbances caused by their ignorance, or by their acceptance, by their understanding,

The world will stand still for you once you begin to stand still for it, the world will deny you,

So long as you are ready to be denied.

True to the claim of life, you are going to eventually fade into yourself, and become your worst enemy,

Or, even so, the best friend that you could have ever wished for will fall into your mind, will become,

And when you know that you are limited, when you will accept the constraints imposed upon you by this world,

You will truly know what it is to be enlightened, you will know what it is to accept the unacceptable, and you will be,

You will be free, you will be yourself, and you will be me; You will be the enumeration of a culmination leading to nothing,

And, as each thought you hold begins to get progressively lost as time itself starts to lose true meaning, will you know,

Just how to deal, or how to understand the feelings that define these so named emotions, how to deny yourself,

How to apply yourself, and how to destroy, rebuild, and know yourself, how to flow as yourself, and help youself,

How to become a part of the world that has so become a part of you, whether or not such a thing is what you accept,

The motif in your life, in life itself is not to return, not to know and understand, as you have so made yourself think,

Constant occurance is defining nothing, no regularity is to be found in this malformed collection of events called life,

Perhaps by returning to the world, you will begin to escape… Animals, trees, grass, dirt, and collective Earth,

Grows in honour of the humans that live off of them.