The liveliest doll

Once there was a man dancing with a lifeless doll. A subway performer. His partner was a doll with crimson lips and legs as long as the sky. She was not real but for a moment she had taken life in this man’s arms. He breathed life into this doll. Together becoming one, their legs move in unison. His soul, his essence sailing into her, bringing her to life. ~ The liveliest doll there is.

If the eyes have no tears the soul has no rainbow

When lucky numbers in the rainbow end,

bad luck is my only friend.

How is it that everytime undeniable strokes of good luck occur, people tend to see purpose in it, thinking it has a higher meaning whereas when something unfortunate happens people are quick to feel they are doomed with bad luck? The truth is that cognitive biases make this possible and it seems as though the fine line between the two is thin, just as with other opposing superlatives. See, if you believe and dream it, then you can achieve it!

The 'soul' or our 'inner self' has resources we cannot even begin to fathom or imagine. It has the ability to lead us to the people and circumstances to help us succeed, heal, and overcome obstacles.

Because if you think it, want it, dream it, then it's real. You are what you feel.

A finer temptress

The mind of a finer tempress is surreal sometimes even beautiful,

but the nightmare is always lurking in the shadows of darkness,

waiting to come out and reveal its multiple personalities.

Dancing by night, dying by day.

Poisonous gardens, lethal and sweet
Choleric fruit, deadly to eat.
Violet nightshades, innocent bloom
Cautiously wait, hungrily loom.
Lemonous petals, dissident play
Dancing by night, dying by day.

The Pristine Red Balloon

Don't give up on Love even when it is wretched from your hands and seems stepped upon by others. Because it will be returned to us one million fold, for Love is love and it's beauties are multifarious to behold.

A pristine music video adaptation of the movie:
The Red Balloon (Le Ballon Rouge, 1956)

Eternal Marriage

Some people have the belief that marriage unites people so that they are together forever in eternity. So far, so good. However somewhere along the line this belief deviates and becomes a discontent alienation and an egotistical significance complex. (With all due respect, this is not intended to offend anyone and I am only discussing around the concern that aroused)

When it comes to mormons, also known as members of the LDS church, an Eternal Marriage is held in the sacred mormon temple unifying the love of the two souls into one in eternity.

In regards to this belief, a man can remarry if the wife dies, which means conciling another soul to the allready existing unity and in other words the man can have two or more wifes in the afterlife. As such this could be interpreted as betrayal to the previous wife who passed away and is doomed to eternal marriage without being able to change this because she is in fact: dead!

Another concerning aspect is that non-mormons are not allowed into the temple. In the example I came across, a whole familly was left out because they were not of the same nature and declined the offer to convert. This makes me wonder whether the mormons are simply striving for an egotistical significance separating them from the rest.

What kind of a religion would not allow familly to be apart of the marriage? And why does the non-mormon familly still have to show up for important pictures, happily outside of the temple?

Two sides of the same coin, is all one

We have a big world, to learn how to tie together.
We have a past and a future, to give us a present.
We have night and day, to separate light from dark.
We have good and evil, to make a choice.
We have life and death, to find peace in both.

Two sides of the same coin, it's all one.

'If you want a picture of the future, imagine a boot stamping on a human face - forever' - George Orwell.

An extraordinary example of my racing mind.'What if...' - The questions driven by FEAR of the UNKNOWN

All my times have come

Here but now they're gone

My frantic times has come towards it's end.
My soul is beyond the sky, the sea, the invisible land so very far away. Nothing is perfect anymore, everything is in agony. Closed eyes opened, but now they cannot close. We are in a time of uncertainty and unstable cynisism; the world is in a recession, mother nature is condemned, language is deteriorating and war is ahead and what not. We know nothing and believe in nothing.

Please forgive me if I have sinned, but imagine: if an open-minded thinker searching for the meaning of life finds that there is none. Then the only thing that he can do to implement meaning, is trade his old life for a religious faith and hope to be enligtened and find a meaning.
If there is no divine, this is in fact true oppression, although if there is, it is the doubters who are oppressed.
In the name of all vice, why the hell would such demons exist?

Oh gravity, what a tragedy

Why does the shadowing burden follow me wherever I go and demonized personifies in the present of evil?
It is only in the arms of love that the bird can fly but in the arms of oppression, the martyr is powerless and a victim of, what seems to be, forces beyond control. The antonym of perfection is the foundation to the barrier. Apparently abandonment is the right word, but I would rather have it be diss-perfection. There it is, I fear being diss-perfect and I sold my soul in an attempt to be perfect. 'I' am what I am required to be but how much of 'me' is left.

Dear entity, allow me to find a solution for retrieving my dynamic delirious state.

A time to be born, a time to die

In order for a meaning to exist, a belief has to be present.

To be the star I am, I should not fear the darkness,

for that is where I shine the brightest.

Courage is not the absense of fear, but the mastery of it.

A fire sparkling in my eyes

A sea nourished with my tears

A wind whirling through my mind

A land beautified by my heart

A supreme shadowing to cease my days

Everyone is a storyteller

The winter is here, the sky is gray,
the wind is cold and the sun is gone.
The grass is frosted, the flowers are dead,
the bliss is gone and so is the swan.
The menace is present, the swords are drawn,
the knight is brave and the reaper is grim.
The passion is clear, the demise ends bold,
the sublime is blinding yet thee must it all behold.
For the painter holds the tale to be told, in the new day of dawn.

I have outdone myself again and achieved a second transcendence to my benefit. My best poem yet, and an introduction to my piano sonata.
I know that I do not know the meaning of happenings, however today was a productive day with elegant approaches and enthusiastic people. Still. Surprisingly, I kept my feet on the ground and noticed them and their spirit without being in accordance to me. This was in fact very pleasant and blissful and undeniably beautiful, to acknowledge someones smile without the 'me, me, me'.

Pattern of life

To seek signs that represent divine revelation, is to linger over an unmeasured light or darkness so very intensive, or a sound so loud made by something enormous, yet coming from the smallest bell. What I am trying to say is that when something is too clear, of too big magnitude for our brain to pick up, we become muted, earsplitted, blinded, in other words break. So, do we really wan't to see and if we do why are we afraid?

Once a door has been opened, it cannot be undone yet with this knowledge we keep making the same mistakes over and over... and over.
∞