“Man looks in the abyss, there’s nothing staring back at him. At that moment, man finds his character. And that is what keeps him out of the abyss.”
To be worth replication one need not be original but one’s self. People desire this above recognition or gold. Truthful in light darkness the unshakable consciousness attracts. Mountains small long travel a few feet its ship calm winds. No greater strength then self.
Man spirit twist beneath dreams and ideals. Admired spirits dreams not, self is suffice. A peaceful forte driven not to acquire or achieve. Life spins within the nature of being. The mighty lean upon its small stature.
A truthful soul conquers desires to be what it is not. Nothing lies beneath its never masked all can see. Some men worth replicating, others vanquished atop their mischievous.
The dishonorable spirit unveiled surprisingly only to himself. The greatest lie told to oneself remains truthful. To masquerade a life is bad luck. Days are not bright nights not long enough afraid of disclosure you pain in sleep.
Honest hearts rescued themselves from lies that became life.
To be trusted one must be self, everything else is an act.
The curtain will come down.