“I had loved a woman,” says this man named Joshua, his feet carrying his body towards a certain uncertainty. He had indeed loved, bared himself wonderfully to a child of his own worship. He had been God upon a time, and gave birth to his pride; the flesh of his own flesh, that is, and made himself smile. Has one ever envisioned God to ever smile?
God is not a thing of power, were ever power to be attained as is, because power has no creation of itself without a viewing of a creation’s suffering; and as the Atheist would adore their emotion of denial, for whatever compiled list of emotions creates denial, sees God as the one to ignore suffering. A compelling sight of ignorance is drawn into the Atheist’s own mind, to say that God ignores suffering. A child, much alike to Joshua’s once-beloved he beheld for himself, is never a child for long. Much alike how Joshua abandoned his beloved, God abandons Mankind for their independence. The pitiful anger an Atheist throws to the sky finds itself nowhere fast, only swimming in the deepest darkness of a limitless universe; and that anger is only a depiction of a proof, that to be angered at God for his supposed refusal to cleanse suffering, proves the angered one to be eternally the child. Therefore, in comprehension of this, God becomes only ever-so powerful, in sight of suffering, in hopes of its thwarting of God’s own throne, in expectation of perhaps a certain someone to die and then ascend.
Joshua had abandoned a woman to her independence, and many movements have encouraged this, for a woman to abandon love, and abandon unity with a man; though, has God ever held the hands of a wife?
What has God built to destroy besides everything he sees with eyes that so many will believe to disbelieve does not exist, as such eyes are seemingly never opened? The sun, and what of the sun, besides warmth, and the warmth we find to open our own eyes after a night’s period of sleep?
Oh, love; such an emotion that awakens; as such occurs for a woman when she is kissed. Beautiful beauty. Beautiful recognition. Flesh rises when it is kissed, and denial only ever surfaces when depression strikes a man down to kiss the soil.
A man is in love with death, not in the act of stooping to kiss, though in the act of loss; to be a pauper is when a man would weep. And Joshua has lost, though of his own accord. A society of Democracy is now London’s breath upon the cold skin of this melancholy town. It is a society of eternal choice, of the uncertainty that comes from never an answer to show itself.
Beauty rapidly falls apart when it is not sustained by the support of love.
A man is in love with a woman when he desires to root her. In place, her desire for exploration is cast aside, and every dance she yearns for becomes wrapped in silence; a dance in silence, that is, and her place becomes the roots for a man’s belonging for her. A man is not in love with a woman when he desires to see her set free. In place of that rooting, she is married with Satan, or deception, and she makes her mark never in sight of God, but of countless opportunity.
For a woman is more-so the opportunist than ever a man was; and a modern realm for a world, especially for Joshua’s hometown of London that has embraced Democracy, has only sought to utilize the essence of the opportunist, so that work is rapid.
A thirst, a burning, a quenching; for the fires of love cannot be quenched, though the first of lust burn out on their own. What has a woman, for any world, in any society, desire for herself? Is it eternity in the arms of a truthful someone, or is it the many placed beams of support, that raises tall a fragile skyscraper, to indicate revolution and endless change?
How long will Joshua continue to travel?
To walk, upon the toes that were once there to see their cleansing in the running waters of a bathtub. And now, to merely stumble over the airy nature of his own depression; and such depression that is a past thrown forward.
He raises his head, during this moment, to espy the walkway before him. A marvelous sight of complete loneliness seems to be now his future.
For what has a man to do with freedom? It is a nothingness to him.
A man becomes the slave, while a woman becomes the asset, for a world that speaks of politicians as saviors.
Politicians have been the leaders of corruption, and nothing more. Love is the only weapon to cleanse; and from this factual sliver of evidence to what has been toyed with, strangled and buried, where are the books with the opening pages to remind all of it?
With what Joshua, as well, espies before him, is a river. In the metaphorical sense, it is another way to depict that road of loneliness, previously mentioned. Though, it is also a way to describe a place of uncertainty.
Of a man and his uncertainty: it is the sight of a globe rotating on the spine of disorder.
Love a man, and he will find himself to make a decision; and to take that decision will reflect upon him as himself never dwelling in eternity to make a decision; and this means, that should a man ever take a moment to decide, he will be forever in love. Though, should he ever take an eternity to decide, then he will be forever in Hell.
Offer freedom through love, to the man, and nothing more. Offer freedom to a woman, and she roams, and nothing more; or a woman will find herself crawling in filth, and still believe herself to hold power.
“I am death,” says a woman, whose power enables her to be that opportunist, repeatedly mentioned, now. “I am love,” says a woman, whose power enables her to cleanse the blood from the responsible man.
Joshua quits his walking, finally.
He has found something that strikes his interest to heart.