The Verdict

enamates here from concessions,(the first stage of empathy, an erotic based rush) then the organization sandwitched unto and braising the brut force with which,
your ideal forms contradict the reality of what it means to really understand a true model is.

What the reality is, what is it, Your mine -who you are, should be according to the way you are seen now,m in the darkness groping,

for the answer, my satrie is but a blush of not having
seen in the broad light of day, you magic, and mystery, may be such as, it is,
may be diminished in stature and depth.

The fear is mine, that your disaffection may grow, rather
than the other way, your affection,
and proof of the solitary enggagement which was frierich’s last battle with the diminishing point,
toward the nothingness of His Being. Who Dares or even cares, to go where so fearfully few may thead?

Warnings from thousands of volumes thus testify, and that being to struggle for the very existence of which death is the finalm arbiter?

In the footseps of Fust, the forgiven, then as a shadow jury, as such as now, i seek to
offer my humble request, that there may not be a compelling reason to relentlessly follow a well thread path to the castle.

So what is the verdict ? That such a journey into the self identification and duplication of a possible search for a meta narrative may conclude with the almost impossible result of a perfect match? The universal application into pure etheriality, so as to assure
Open arms notwithstanding or who are you?

But say, have you been keeping accurate track and worked out,
So as to not disappoint those to whom this type,
Has reached the immortal shadow of a total
Non reciprocity of the reduced
Absurdly vain attempt
To mirror backwards
The care,
The dare, of
Never forgetting the golden rule watch out what you wish for,
And that is the question ,
The ultimate resonance between billions,
Of people who have ever breathed,
A need,
To re appropriate to that ,
Or is this some,
Just some miscarriage of the image thoughts
Of sensing the eternal young
An ideal re presentation of all the energy expanded
In the nurturing of the very young
In spite of the recurring discard of those who take care
Of them
Who were able to immortalized themselves into and into
Our very soul?

Soul travel. Eckencar.They claim that the soul flies specially at night, surging up on wings of joy, and use it as recompense for the fear of the thought of being unalive. You’re always alive, no doubt, and if there is any doubt, just wait until it happens to You, it will either make you a believer for once, or break every thought you ever entertained. I would place my bets with Jason in that regard, irrespective of all counter arguments, basing them on the apprehended seemingly irrefutable horrors here on this orb called earth. (The flip side of this here, surrealism)