A letter to a half-man.

[mannequin01]

I'm at war with the dead men of the past, those wretched individuals who intercepted the cultural flow of my ancestral legacy, rushing upon us with a blazing ruthlessness, brutally slaying showing no mercy where ever they stood. Declaring my people as strange and barbaric, with much calculation they made my language illegal attempting to stamp out my rebirth, making my face unknown to myself, turning me into a predicted result of their strategic plans.

Successful to a degree they were, as there is a difference between being raised by your language and having to relearn it. I was raised speaking my father's killer's tongue, my enemy eternally breaking into me, swaying my essence into their direction, their masterpiece, a piece that they master themselves over. They are long dead in the external realm, making this war personal to myself. A war within that must be fought with knowing that which i once was.

There is no way forward until i return back to restart where i left off, to bring forward swords of information where i place myself upon to carry myself back to myself. An acceptance of a gift that nature has bestowed upon me, approached with an eager acceptance. Since i was birthed in my enemy's language, i cannot change that. A wound that will never heal, so i have chosen to treat it as a portal into the depths of the past, a remembrance of these grinning vultures, especially now that i see them. Humbly i wait to merry meet myself and greet myself with bright blessings.

Half of the battle has been won.

[mannequin01]

I wonder if philosophy was a survival strategy of past people, to create a map to grow themselves upon.

[A Shieldmaiden]

mannequin, what a gem you are.

You have hidden it for so long.

[mannequin01]

mannequin, what a gem you are.

You have hidden it for so long.

Woah woah wooooah, are you sure your female ego can handle paying a man such a compliment without it being reciprocated?

But anyways, yeah I know. My shine is clear for those who have eyes..by my eyes are more clear than my shine..

p.s
Definitely not going to be fighting and sacrificing my life to save women in this up and coming war that they have largely contributed to.

[A Shieldmaiden]

Woah woah wooooah, are you sure your female ego can handle paying a man such a compliment without it being reciprocated?

Reciprocated? It never entered my mind! Don't stop seeing what’s worthy of admiration in yourself.

[Meno_]

I'm at war with the dead men of the past, those wretched individuals who intercepted the cultural flow of my ancestral legacy, rushing upon us with a blazing ruthlessness, brutally slaying showing no mercy where ever they stood. Declaring my people as strange and barbaric, with much calculation they made my language illegal attempting to stamp out my rebirth, making my face unknown to myself, turning me into a predicted result of their strategic plans.

Successful to a degree they were, as there is a difference between being raised by your language and having to relearn it. I was raised speaking my father's killer's tongue, my enemy eternally breaking into me, swaying my essence into their direction, their masterpiece, a piece that they master themselves over. They are long dead in the external realm, making this war personal to myself. A war within that must be fought with knowing that which i once was.

There is no way forward until i return back to restart where i left off, to bring forward swords of information where i place myself upon to carry myself back to myself. An acceptance of a gift that nature has bestowed upon me, approached with an eager acceptance. Since i was birthed in my enemy's language, i cannot change that. A wound that will never heal, so i have chosen to treat it as a portal into the depths of the past, a remembrance of these grinning vultures, especially now that i see them. Humbly i wait to merry meet myself and greet myself with bright blessings.

Half of the battle has been won.

Since digging in the dustbins of yesteryear, where the shinning below as above have said of : Stop, those, who enter here,

It is not for such, that inferred such half, but halt, fore wards or back, that which constrains its passage, but the very form of measures of temporal constriction prohibiting it.

The half but a product of the whole by two divided, or simply the second placed under a lower fractional caliber, or.even any difference this arising, what can never cross any mind, don't mind. Such a man brutally honest, can never be at once,inside, or out. It remains the being in the world of.shadows down under and of infinitely replicating mirrors above, connecting the visible from.the invisible at some very third place beyond some time.This in spite of needing conventional inner conflict.between two almost equal antagonists.

This, the price of time travel, perhaps worth it , perhaps a dereliction of an abandoned need of fusage of sorts.