I've learnt what doing sacrifices means, yet I cannot remember if I have ever done a single one. Learning how to do something or the notion of it is not similar to doing it.
A valuable discovery doesn't exist without any random casualties to sustain it. That is, when we speak of the hard work and the wishes and dreams which are slaughtered every day in order to let the other ones, more important, more precious to us, to exist. Oh, it feels like dying under the innocent smile of the blazin sun. It fels like cutting one of your members and throwing them to the vultures.
And if so, how come these wounds never heal? Why isn't meditation enough sometimes? do we, as simple mortals, ask for much?
Life is continually submersing us into chambers of filth. Their thresholds are covered in moonlit dust. They relinquish our specters using simple mirrages. Yet at times, these mirrages are being consumed, usin this as an arm against us.
What if life is meant to be a continuous question/answer? Life actually is the answer to itself....We just need to live in order to heal and we have to live in order to be wounded and afterwards heal again.... Maybe.... we're simply slidng throught this eternal sin called the supreme forgivenessss. L>I>F>E( Lie if fear errects).
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