blazeofglory
07-21-2008, 01:08 AM
We are what we are through history," stated Hegel; and Freud, for all his biological determinism.
Clouds of history:
What we call present or current has no full measure currency, and they have quitrents of the past, a great amount of legacies I want sneak out in point of fact. I live on not on my own, on parts of dreams set by my parents, my Gurus, my societies. And I am in substance a pyramided structure of their eccentricities and quirks and I do not exist out side their dominion and sovereignty over my existence.
I communicate now with all of you guys across frontiers, but what prop up my ideas, or the source of what I do with you, behave or transact cascades fro a source that is arid now, yet I try to give it an air of vitality and freshness and yet I fail.
Do away with eeriness of the past, and take a breath of presence, being here, and assassinating your past ideals hang-overing you. Finish off your dearest ideals, and dry up the very fountainhead of your inspirations. Indeed the new morn you wake up to after this will nauseate you for a while. But wait it will give you vivacity, animating your course of life.
Your religions, your ideals, gods, beliefs are old shrouds that no longer should you drape your present realities. And you succumb to stresses and depressions, for you sign up or strike a contract with the dead and live up to the terms and conditions set by those who are dead now.
Clouds of history:
What we call present or current has no full measure currency, and they have quitrents of the past, a great amount of legacies I want sneak out in point of fact. I live on not on my own, on parts of dreams set by my parents, my Gurus, my societies. And I am in substance a pyramided structure of their eccentricities and quirks and I do not exist out side their dominion and sovereignty over my existence.
I communicate now with all of you guys across frontiers, but what prop up my ideas, or the source of what I do with you, behave or transact cascades fro a source that is arid now, yet I try to give it an air of vitality and freshness and yet I fail.
Do away with eeriness of the past, and take a breath of presence, being here, and assassinating your past ideals hang-overing you. Finish off your dearest ideals, and dry up the very fountainhead of your inspirations. Indeed the new morn you wake up to after this will nauseate you for a while. But wait it will give you vivacity, animating your course of life.
Your religions, your ideals, gods, beliefs are old shrouds that no longer should you drape your present realities. And you succumb to stresses and depressions, for you sign up or strike a contract with the dead and live up to the terms and conditions set by those who are dead now.