there is no new. there is no old. there is only is.

Centripetal cycles spin us on a Mary-Go-Round -- though we never move at all. We twirl and whirl around until we're sick of it, then get sick from it. As we look up towards the sun, so many oscillations of fire engulf the eye's pupils, dilating the mind's consciousness -- though we never see the light. There was a moment in time when space was proof enough for our feeble minds-- that the new never was known, and the old was written in stone -- though this time has come and gone. And what is left for us to ponder? What more can we analyze? Where will our pensive thoughts lead us when we always come back to where we started? I'm sick of circles, sick of cycles. Let the instant be my guide and let my mind wonder into the depths of infinity. Let me slay the monster while becoming the monster. Let the abyss look into me as I swim deeper into its bottomless belly. It's time to move on without moving. It's time to let go of time, while continuing. It's time for the infinite. Let us see the light. Let us be the light. Let us travel faster than the speed of light. We shall pitch our giant tent to house the instant of love. We shall destroy the circus we've built around us, in the instant of anger. We shall create a graveyard to always remember that which we bore, that which we have murdered. Let me die. Let me live. The world is destructive, the mind is deconstructed. There is no truth without the lie. There is no lie without the truth; however, there is an is with only the is. And that is where our graveyard shall be planted: in grave yards of dead flowers and beautiful stars -- within the instant of the is.