[Inspired by Yevgeny Zamyatin’s We and a Vladimir Nabokov quote]
But isn’t it in the forbidden apples and crossed boundaries that we find a pleasure that is otherwise unreciprocated in that which is given in good faith.
We are constantly craving for the wrong.
We long for something so ephemeral and surreal that it is almost unlikely to be existent. And yet we bring it into existence. From instincts and desires to justifying trespassed lines, we are capable of reasoning in the most intertwining of branches. We can create and destroy at least, we believe we can and so we do.
But we are not infinite, we are not the origins. We are not even close to the beginning. And yet we choose to give ourselves self-acclaimed power to etch the endings we wish for in stone and other definitive metaphors.
Human nature is not existent, it is a state of nature that is in constant flux complying to whatever is wanted most. The world is not developing or moving, in fact its only motion is in the form of inconsistent deterioration. And given the choice to live again, we would still choose freedom over happiness because we are not bound by chains, we are bound my limitations of perception.
What we do not wish to perceive, we eliminate. Like the Gods of our mind, but rather it is the mind that is the God of us, we tend to be self-perceived as our own masters. As though power, whether of beauty or of intelligence, being so easily self-acclaimed is a self-attributed characteristic.
We are only dust and stardust that is so aesthetically suspended in space it tends to overgrow the expansion of the space-time fabric. Dominating both aspects. But dominance is not in the colonisation of space, it is not the British occupation so easily relinquished years after, it is the French cultural impact that is so eminent it is never ultimately relinquished unless by a stronger and more dominant culture.
And like cultures, ideas fight until the greater and the more dominantly, whether accepted or founded, overpowers the rest.
But we are not ideas,
we are only mere manifestations,
so why do we occupy so much space,
as a form of something,
that is greater,
and that we can only so closely approach,
and yet never truly intersect?