Everything drops like a leaden weight to the epicenter of all Perplexity,
a longing for some kind of exonerating Sublimation.
Even my dreams are foreign to me & I awaken time and again in some solemn stratosphere
where Reason becomes the Loathsome Lie, a figurehead for the Raging's vast Enterprise.
For such sapience and existential impartiality have required of this human heart,
far more than they, themselves have to compensate with.
The human essentia which can neither survive nor fully thrive without the safeguarding
of such damnable and damning dialectics.
How will humankind keep its Spirit alive?
Or will the Spirit, too, become more and more subject to the gross rigours
of artificial sustainment & respiration?
Have we sacrificed the Sanctified & the Sublime at the altar of Secular Science
and its ever multiplicative gods?
Artificial intelligence.
Artificial life support, indeed.
And this is just it!
The deceit which the mortal heart is pressured daily to commit.
And what a tall order indeed-to be all and anything other than that which one unalterably & inescapably is.
The most profound & omnipresent multi-lemma every human entity must decipher-
must reduce to just one or the other, right or wrong, black or white,
at the pricey cost of the righteous actualization of all other possibilities teeming throughout the Infinite Void,
for a fully enriched and truly potentiated experience and existence.
If only we could find a feasible way to reconcile and synthesize that primitive hunger
with our more neoterically prone thirst,
would we perhaps no longer continue to so easily mistake one for the other,
and perhaps finally breach that true Sublimity which will lead us to our noblest & most authentic raison d'etre,
that whispering apprehension we cohabit with daily,
tickling the raw, pink underbelly of the animalian essence,
rousing those icy-hot huffs of ragged respiration,
thus enlivening the dually-instinctual, pulsating organic human engine of human animation, circumnavigation,
relaying to the amygdala with super luminous circuitry,
that old familiar feeling, a dark hovering cloud to which we so often commonly allude,
always brewing up its Venusian rainstorm-
a persistent Voodoo drum thunder-
But first! Yes! First!
That fine flash of electric light, so indescribably white, illuminating all neuronal pathways
if but even for a nanosecond-yet still, more than enough for the ever-eidetically nuanced soul
to be branded with the imprinting of yet another enticingly facile dys-cryptic codex.
At what price, progress?
Or will we just continue to digress in infinite regress?
Have to continually confess in excess for those issues we so often painstakingly fail to address?
Or for how we too often exist and depend on much, much less than a mere guess,
born of what faux noblesse and tedious overdress of specious politesse to which we daily acquiesce,
before the shrine of Egoistic obsess-a false sense of success at best,
which we embrace with far too much agress.
How much longer will we continue to escape the dire consequences of our sins?
We must let the ailing present pass, before we are ever to become ready for rebirth,
reborn into renewed health and vigour.
For this Life is not a test of the reasoning, linear mind.
It is a test of the earthbound Spirit.
