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Date Posted: 20:51:11 04/13/00 Thu
Author: saint stephen
Subject: denial...

The natural defense systems of our control society extinguish self, and everything that is pure about it. That spark can be rekindled, yet it takes an eternal inner struggle similar to a revolution that would speed up the social progression and mental evolution of the collective. Having this fire stomped out and winning this battle for rebirth and progress not once, but twice, I can tell you it is an odd feeling once it burns into your grips. It is like a hooker who is strungout on crack and sells her body to support her habbit and survive: she loses all passion, she loses all self respect, she becomes a slave to mental poison, ect. ect. ect., so on so on. Imagine this hooker falling in love a being swept of her feet by the mythical knight in shining armour who rides in and sweeps her of her feet. This person restores her dreams and returns emotion to every inch of her life, freeing her from her slavery and returning the fire of life to every inch of her mind body and soul. Yet, she finds aids and realizes she will die and poison her dream to death via her human imperfections and the lasting grip of her slavery, yet she has absolution, for neither her nor her dying dream have any regrets for both being awoken from there slumber to live life: one from a gallent swagger of a warrior of honnor which truned his back on life for a higher calling, and was missing the true mysticism of life, and one who was a walking corpse, both druken from denial. I know how it is to awaken from a pain so real and tangible it becomes the excepted and accepted norm; I know how it is be haunted by the ghosts of the past: to realize that the imperfections which used to personify me and now still infect me still personify and infect most to the point where we will find universal destruction and extinction barring some unlikely feat of marvelous mysticism. However, I also no a sense of absolution, for I have found myself and learned not to fear, for it is fruitless and leads to my undoing. Stand in the face of adversity and rise above like the phonix from the ashes, stand and be reborn, for your personal sanity and the bleak ray of hope that the future still grips and juggles as losely as a hot patato.

Love,
Saint Stephen

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