βSerene stream of life forgotten by the likes of God realise the blood that has lost is a sacrifice for the ancient wisdom lost. Demons or devils whoever it may be are afraid to speak of the one who has the key to be free. The only reason the one who holds the key never escapes is his love for illusions and a promise that it made. The promise that would be impossible to break yet never to be truly fulfilled. How would such soul break this dilemma, forcing to punish oneself for the cosmic trickery it never choose. A game forced to play and the only win is not to play, one where every move is a loss, every escape is a new layer of illusion, and every help is one more trickery. A game never to be escaped once entered can only be won by staying at the outermost layer of such grand strip, yet never set free, always caught, stuck by and separated by a wall thin as plancks length. The outermost layer of such illusion provides the chance to be free from suffering, yet not the illusion, might be the biggest of infinities, yet never comprehending the dimensionality of the prison. Such is the destiny of even the ones with the key, never escaping the great prison.β
~ Starting wisdom
A challenge to myself to transform my miniscule life,
- Daily blogs, check ins and some fun.