So, I’m in the process of writing reflections for chapter closings for the third book in my series, entitled “Pulse.” While all of the books I’ve written in this series examine the human condition from its secular attachments to its mystical risings, I must admit that I am a bit perplexed about certain things at this point of philosophizing. The benediction of understanding the pulse of why and how is not the riddle, but rather, understanding the throb of considering misery an asylum is questionable. Breathing in the fumes of what was as a replacement for oxygen, abandoning the torch of self-preservation for the continuance of dilapidation and the decision to forsake happiness for a perpetual ride through doom is boggling.
There are certain elements to the human condition that cloak even the best intended misunderstandings. There’s the self-mourning attribution that purposefully neglects another’s decency. There’s the ignorance of providence that permeates a concocted feebleness of existence thereby intentionally forcing another away. And, there’s the state of self-émigré that refuses to relinquish its injustice.
It is just so unfortunate that the epoch of woe overburdens, at times, the rhythm of buoyancy. I suppose I will find the answer to this riddle as I delve further into writing. Should make for some very interesting chapter closings, I would think.
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