Towards the horizon

Righteous judge of vengeance,
grant me the gift of absolution
before the day of retribution.

What happened to the notions of love, grown tarnished and tad.
To be majestic and cruel, hoist by one's own petard.
These assaults on serenity and levels of effort misperceived.
The golden light of glow, nor bared or beheld.
Soon wishing sensitive introspection, rather than ashes of malice.
Forsakenly, many miles of untravelled road has gone to waste.

Damned art thee - there is still time to change the road thee art on.

Justified truth of reality and language

It is hard to forget a world
where you felt loved and
experienced things
which could have been true,
- but may not have been.

Creativity, Brilliance and Madness
I have a low level of latent inhibition which means I focus on every sight, sound, and thought that enters my mind and apparently this can lead to madness.
Could this be the reason for the incoherence when describing my mental sets?

In addition the use of words in a coherent matter will not lead us to higher truth about reality, in fact they do not define it at all. Words are solely expressions of ideas but are not real! For example: you can not touch the word 'flower'.
Although words can refer to specific things but cause confusion as well.
Moreover in order to understand words we need to have an experience of the word of some sort.

• Try to explain the colour red to a blind man or, the other way around, the sound of a piano to a man who is deaf?

The truth is that being able to hear a sound or see a colour is not the same as the ability to understand spoken words or percieved images.
So the question, that remains unanswered and keeps appearing is:
What would we be without all our senses seeing as we would still be 'alive'?

To conclude we are victims of a disease created by words: thought. Our thoughts are made up of words, that are divided into fragmented bits and pieces whereas justified reality is undivided. Therefore the complex of problems lies in putting reality back into a whole, using thought.

Gloves hold my hand

Survival of the fitest is deficient when there is

no mutual character resemblance.

To little they held my hand

making no immense band

and now alone I stand

having made my own land

with my future planned

with hopes of being grande