We are lost in a world where only the blind can see, where meaning is a plague of duty. We must not proceed, or be caught by hate, nor turn to suckle on the breast of fate, lest the pain of hate grows in our eyes and draws tears, glittering prisms upon our face, and makes us sorrowful with sight. We search for anything divine while we travel blind throughout this universe. We search for a message scribbled upon a rock, or for a deep and deadly psychotic pill that will deliver the secret meaning. A strange man said to me, ‘I saw them all, every person’s anonymous God. They’d been sitting there in a cluster, forever. Forever since man.’ Then he told me, ‘I’m just one flower in this field, kneeling in prayer before the bees, praying for them to procreate my soul or make me immortal.’ Perhaps he was not such a strange man, perhaps he was me.

Believe in yourself

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