My peculiarity is the immateriality of my externality.
Where blindness and knowledge meet, as I’ve bought into my own deceit.
I’m superficially inclined to be in service of a blind mind casting aside the truth that abides deep inside.
I’ve become ignorance’s fool and materiality’s dumb mule, with my head up my behind I robotically wind to the grind of time.
Time ticks and tocks while I follow the flocks of blindness into the abyss of my inevitable undoing.
What I see in this illusive surreal wheel has that tempting appeal, but it is not real.
It is not real.
The mentality of reality is in actuality an illusion, and this causes the mind some serious confusion.
The freedom from this conundrum begins with the inquiry…Who Am I?
I am the disappearance of “other.”
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