Chest infection, hearts' inflection carries one through the damage that makes us wiser. Reduce me down and my mind expands as my emotions infect themselves with conscience updated. Was this conscience a gift given or innate? or is it a poison that prevents my protecting myself from lifes' malefactors?
Getting through gets one through life to the point where you are through. Is it really possible for our fellows to harbour so much hatred as to will us out?
Leave alone as one would wish to be able to fruit. Whatever living throws the body can catch and harness. Whatever you do you just strengthen my power. The worry makes me relax as I know it makes me brighter. Your ministrations simply buoy-up the fact you worry more than I.
At this I laugh oh thinker of destructive thoughts. Break my heart; rip out my lungs; I will die in a superior position you will create long after I am rotted. For conscience (a disease we will all suffer with) gets us all in the end.
Those who know leave first. So live your life in self-enforced ignorance and you will live a long and no doubt prosperous life. But know that I went because I was ready; as ready as you are not.
For a heart that is pure knows it is so. A heart that is tainted knows it is pure until that day of self-reckoning—it will come.
Rant tempers . . .
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