Your soul steps up to the podium, rehearsing existence as it shifts, the crowds stood ahead, expecting something their ears cant hear, their hearts cannot relate to, their minds cannot adjust to. The end decides if the middle was worth the beginning, the things you fight for, the things we all fight for, the things that gives us each a reason to live:
It hardly seems worth it, the human race destroys it, and you are part of a flock you cant break free of, part of a world you cant escape from. The human race is an errand boy for the higher, a virus, a survivor and a murderer. The images we create, the food we eat, the drink we consume, the lives we take, all illusions created by ourselves to protect us from the truth.
What is the truth, the truth is that there is no truth, why?, because we protect ourselves, saying truth is an illusion, believing that the key does not fit the lock, the passage does not lead to the end, the choice is not the right one. We become ruled and we fight, we become free and we struggle, united we fall, divided we stand.
How are we united? In celebration? of what, our existence, our perseverance, our sanity, our purpose, any and all of these are the answers to the puzzle. The puzzle grows as it becomes more complete, the human race adding to its own arsenal of destructive urges, adding to its own desperation to defeat those that it created, desperate to have a reason to believe in itself.
How do we believe? Belief is a simple word, it is the connection that the human race struggles to understand, and understanding is something the human race creates as an illusion, like all things, to keep busy, to keep existing, to keep the purpose.
If you have listened to a word I have said, and understand what I am talking about, then you have a purpose
The only question that remains is, did you create that understanding as an illusion?
United we fall, divided we stand