The unpolished and unrefined nature of a man who neglects to sharpen both his speech and intelligence, is lacking the blade of sense. Making him vulnerable in times of contention.
Love in this age has become a transaction, a fleeting exchange of pixels and pleasantries. We no longer seek connection but convenience, and in our pursuit of efficiency, we have forgotten the beauty of the ineffable.
In our quest to become individuals, we have become shards; scattered across screens, profiles, and personas. Each fragment reflects a facet of what we wish to be, none capturing what we are. We are now collections of projections, seeking validation from mirrors that cannot see.
To believe that oneโs fate is set by birth is to surrender before the battle has begun; it is easier to blame the world than to endure the slow, grueling work of self-transformation, where real strength is neither inherited nor given but earned through struggle.
In the age of gilded screens, to forge yet another shrine for oneโs own voice is folly; demanding tribute from those already weighed down by endless tithes is but the hubris of empty echo, burdening the faithful for coin.
In the guise of piousness, there lies a hollow artifice. Cloaking themselves in virtue's garb carry not the substance of true charity. They parade their deeds as beacons of benevolence, yet their essence is of self-interest.
@notaflyingmoose And thus was the last heard from moose, legends say he ended up in San Francisco of all places chasing a dream of post ironic investing.
What is to be said about the man who can perish in his own dreams? A world in where he may be that of a King and lay waste onto his enemies but instead he lay dead with sword and arrow piercing flesh.
Despite once shaping the world, man now wastes his time. Every moment spent passively waiting, a piece of life lost to oblivion. In pursuit of progress, he becomes enslaved, losing touch with the richness of action and thought as his hands are bound to monotonous routines.
Existence entails a journey through the fragmented remnants of balance, navigating through forces that have long been interred in obscurity, crafting a radiance that challenges the emptiness, and awakening the latent potential of the spirit.
Have you ever made something that hypnotized you and filled you with an off putting feeling that you just can't describe? Something that feels like you didn't even make it to begin with? It just fell into place but like a puzzle with infinite unfitting pieces?