It makes itself seen but forgets this very deed. A fatherly presence; a mothery love. Where or what is it? Is it you? No. You are one of it's many masks. All of a different appearance and yet, still, a mask. Always in darkness, the voiceless, faceless, fatherless one dwells in mystery.
A demon and an angel; the faceless takes side with nobody.
Magnetic curtains swaying in the breeze. This is the dwelling substance; the soul.
A balancing wooden plank, high atop a canopy. This is the substance of mind.
Beware of the clever one. Quick with ideas filled with theatrical show. It knows not. A performance is mimicry. It is experience on it's own and will not merge with what is. I cannot shape the world. Only a world can shape a world.









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[link]
[link]
[link]
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The Exquisite Corpse:[link]
My website: [link]
The surreal arts:[link]
CollaborativeCorpse:[link]
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The Exquisite Corpse:[link]
My website: [link]
The surreal arts:[link]
CollaborativeCorpse:[link]
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"But you should know black is not a fashion you wear, you can't find it. Its not a question of Lifestyle; black finds you."
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