Onirem2000
12-31-2012, 02:44 AM
The Final Fantasy
When the dead find their ways to heaven they realize finally that after all that they have died. Vincent Van Gogh, the Artist’s artist died because he thought he was so so or what he reckoned tacky. This reckoning, or chilling, the cooling of the destitute man’s self’ portrait sought a wake of tackiness brought what he wanted to be an end: in accounting for his losses his sensibility dwindled, but yet the man who reached the glory like Titian found himself accounting for Cherubs like a dervish racing through the heavens’ visions of colors and sensations most of which encompassed him in fantasy. I say of this hero he could be a martyr because he lost his soul to the frivolity of the time and because of this he had already found his way into death, dying by the disregard of a craft made mad or an art made heathen and had acted as if he were begotten to be the one who committed suicide. This man lied so endearingly that he continued to recreate himself in the sense that a day had passed or a night had ended. In this new day one could say there are many things that allude to the finality of death: smarts, godliness, or fanaticism, but all these point to being and to being alive but still yet to the being without the needed heed for Death if such a person exists. When Death finally presents you really know you should be ready to mobilize to fight until you die. To rid you of all these things of the likes of the immaterial, the immortal, the endless, the end which no one proper has any knowledge you have to make a pledge. The pledge is more of a feeling of good: the desire of seeing all that you find good. Thus in death you realize you are the dead but still more of a person than anything else that can be conceived of it. And when you die you there starts the becoming of the dead. Or at last you have become one of the dead. But there is not a soul on heaven, the earth, or throughout the universe that can disprove that I know everyone somehow comes back alive whether it is through life or in death. Herein lay the secrets of living or of the reckoning-- of what one may call the future. Therein lays the end.
When the dead find their ways to heaven they realize finally that after all that they have died. Vincent Van Gogh, the Artist’s artist died because he thought he was so so or what he reckoned tacky. This reckoning, or chilling, the cooling of the destitute man’s self’ portrait sought a wake of tackiness brought what he wanted to be an end: in accounting for his losses his sensibility dwindled, but yet the man who reached the glory like Titian found himself accounting for Cherubs like a dervish racing through the heavens’ visions of colors and sensations most of which encompassed him in fantasy. I say of this hero he could be a martyr because he lost his soul to the frivolity of the time and because of this he had already found his way into death, dying by the disregard of a craft made mad or an art made heathen and had acted as if he were begotten to be the one who committed suicide. This man lied so endearingly that he continued to recreate himself in the sense that a day had passed or a night had ended. In this new day one could say there are many things that allude to the finality of death: smarts, godliness, or fanaticism, but all these point to being and to being alive but still yet to the being without the needed heed for Death if such a person exists. When Death finally presents you really know you should be ready to mobilize to fight until you die. To rid you of all these things of the likes of the immaterial, the immortal, the endless, the end which no one proper has any knowledge you have to make a pledge. The pledge is more of a feeling of good: the desire of seeing all that you find good. Thus in death you realize you are the dead but still more of a person than anything else that can be conceived of it. And when you die you there starts the becoming of the dead. Or at last you have become one of the dead. But there is not a soul on heaven, the earth, or throughout the universe that can disprove that I know everyone somehow comes back alive whether it is through life or in death. Herein lay the secrets of living or of the reckoning-- of what one may call the future. Therein lays the end.