Descent Redefined.

I do not worry about silence.

Or the trembling from expectation.

I know my capabilities and am no longer frightened by them.

I've made my own decisions, sucked them into my soul,

defined them.

I am nothing of then and everything of now.

Right now, this moment in these months.

And I will change again.

Everything comes subtly.

Faster than a blink.

You're there, in the storm, thinking about your death

as a nonchalant routine of human life.

The thoughts dwindle.

Liquid catacomb for all of my worries and analyzations.

Yet, the fear is gone. Like it never existed. Like I never doubted my existence.

The quickest habit to form is the one that forms without even having to say a word.

(as long as I'm smiling, as long as I'm laughing, I am happy. This is happiness.)

I don't even bother with justifications. I don't even bother with blaming excuses. There's nothing to justify, and no one to blame. No reason to blame. I have what I have because I need it to be there for me. I do what I do because I need to learn how to deal with it. Deal with myself, deal with the heart-stopping realization that nothing is how it seems, nothing feels how you think it will feel. Every dramatization is a lie we are all tricked into living.

(what is alive? the opposite of death? Is that all? We are going through all of this because of our need to contrast?)

Oh, but the brittleness is gone. The collapsing bone structure is now a solid mass of ideas and identity, guarded with iron and locks. But they're visible to me now, and necessary.

And I know I will change. And everything will be different. Oh, I know that now. That no feeling last forever. Everything is a dwindling spark, everything fades. (memoryless)

I've reached a pinnacle of witnessing perfection, living through perfection, facing ghosts of doubt, nightmares of fear and insecurity. And it all feels different, except I ride still silently, accepting silence as apart of my security system around the mass that I now am. The burgeoning honesty started flowing. And I took the insecurity, the doubt, the fear, all strong statured ghosts, I took them by the hand-

And I let them all go.

Beginend (First Cycle)

beginend (|biˈgin||end|)

1 a final part of something, esp. a period of time, an activity, or a story

1 [ trans. ] start; perform or undergo the first part of

2 the furthest or most extreme part or point of something

• death or ruin

• [ intrans. ] come into being or have its starting point at a certain time or place

3 Change.

4 Growth.

everything.

heaven opens up through the trees sometimes.

when mornings rising

or day is setting.

tiny drops of sunlight

atop the forest trees spilling onto the leaf

infested ground.

what is this solid place, where is this solid place-

i do not know,

but it's all I know of peace in this world.

end of april manifest (2)

manifest (meaning one)

somewhere in living and learning the truth

i've lost my capacity to write fiction.

i can only pen out biographical pieces.

everything leads back to the vanity of 'I'

and 'me'.

I can acknowledge the vanity only now.

But as much as I am fascinated by people,

I cannot seem to write their personalities on page.

I make them seem shallow and characterized.

My imagination is still brimming with impossibility.

But even my imagination sounds shallow on page.

Everything has two sides and I have yet to master the art

of showing both.

this is where I lose everything and regain more than I'd hope for.

8 more weeks?

(am I counting down again? because this means so much more than silly numbers that make me think I can cheat time.)