You’ve been brought to feel, The complexities of youth, Each breath, unleashes sweetness for me To taste, like wine of most fervent grapes. When your eyes see upwards, At the many Gods in their auras, A gleam comes whisking you away To where pain no longer resides. For so much, you’ve desired their shape, Their tune displayed in white harmony.
Eve had one shallow mind, And a single torn heart. Divided between the existence, Of longing and belonging.
To view you next upon a cross, Would make me most wise, To be seated cross-legged, Near your side. And then, to watch the blood drain, From daggers between your thighs.
I have been most unkind, During the onset to revelation, When Christ offered me one kind word, To say to love you, upon the day of your death, Would that be too late, my darling? The bitter blood as sweet wine, As rose buds hang firmly on your golden shoulders, And their thorns have made a crown.
Denial and merriment go well, Unto the aspect of my cherished Hell.
I raise this curtain to show a face, Streaming with the tears of fear. Kiss me, beautiful one, before the noose wraps itself, About my idle neck.
I have loved an angel, And gave until I was emptiness, I will remain as emptiness, To focus on your delicate face, And how the world could crush All the beauty away from my reach.
Love has made me strong, Love has made me fragile. As a man who loves forever, I still cling upon pain.
Confusion drinks the waters, Of my frozen soul. Love has a merry way Of showing affection. It is so, for I’ve become solitary Against the waves of family.
I am so tired, To find wholeness, once more, And so, I will lay beside you, In a bed of snow.
I would die, willingly, To merely see your face still smiling. For what haunts me the most, Is the blood that may come, And so, my mind cannot ever ease. My mind cannot ever ease.
“Woman craves all things to quench her thirst. Gratification is her outcome to her innate trait of curiosity. And a 20th/21st century movement named Feminism has only become the reincarnation of that old tale: Adam & Eve, the old sin, and the old lovers, with Man being betrayed by his disservice to Woman, and his inability to conquer Woman; for it was because Woman thought herself to believe in deception, the repeated quenching of her thirst, over Man who offered her eternity.
Feminism is only the 21st century retelling of the 3,000-year-old tale of Adam & Eve, because it recites the same stages. The stages: To disallow Woman, to free Woman, and then to deceive Woman. And so, we know by this that ‘freedom’ is life’s deception. That purpose, is the motive of life. That hatred, is life’s drive; and to love, is life’s vulnerability in remembrance of another vulnerability, that is death. ‘Adam & Eve’ first showed these stages by first showing Eve’s keeping into being a wife for Adam; and then, she is tempted by Satan, the incarnation of pure deception, to have more than Adam allowed; and then, deception is soon accepted by Eve, for her to then betray Adam, in deceiving him, in return. For Feminism has showed the same steps. As a wife, she was disallowed to roam, to be free; and then, she was tempted into ‘positions of power’ beyond this restriction of freedom; and then, in acceptance of that temptation, she betrays her husband by believing him unneeded for her independence to make an individual choice.
Hatred is only defined as discontent, or dissatisfaction; and Woman is immensely curious. For everything of a home that represents a wall, only the ‘fires of lust’ may burn a home to cinders. Afterwards, Woman is free to walk. Hatred reveals anger, a conflagration or an inferno that reveals itself to be fire, alike to hatred, and everything unchanging is torn apart. To comprehend another thing, Woman feels herself guilty in everything undone for her. Curiosity feeds into this; and as well, a world today that presents itself to desire ‘productivity’ above all things, will renounce love to be Woman’s forte, and become her enemy. For love, as an emotion, is the opposite of hatred, and shows itself as contentment.
It is so, as love speaks for itself, because Man of any real truth, would never say to himself, before Woman, “There she is, before me, though I have need for other things.” Rather, Man would say, “I have her, as she stands before me, and I have no need for anything else.”
Love is the mark of contentment, and there is no other more neutral definition to love, besides that satisfaction that makes us want for nothing more, than what is already treasured. And, an eternity, for whatever else represents the Woman as beloved, than to imprison her in that cage; that same cage that presents itself as the highest degree of truth, as a sentence for life, as an eternity in love, as the most passion extended forth, for there to be no escape from its confinement? Woman was imprisoned in a home for two reasons: her curiosity embedded, and the world would not interfere on that marriage.
Woman’s body is flesh. Flesh is truth. Flesh is recognized as individualized, from person to person, as a skeleton is all-universal, as any other skeleton. It is because one bone is as white as the next. Though, a face will be recognized, not for bone, or structure, but for flesh. Therefore, Woman’s body is the incarnation of truth. And such, when revealed, as that is many a time questioned, always shocking to the witness. Present a Woman of age to espy the Woman of youth in her nude, and what emotion might certainly be expressed in her eyes, besides the highest forms, of perhaps envy or utter shock? Truth is shocking to both eyes and ears, and to even tell the frail widow that her child has died, might cause her heart to burst, so she will die.”
