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  • Writer's pictureRadiantDarkness

Psychosis by Design

Overcoming what may have destroyed many,

A psychotic break costs a pretty penny.

Admitting that mind has been lost,

You'd call it crazy, at all costs.

If we all left ourselves to become,

Crazy would then be undone.

Stars aligned for a reason,

Look past our brother's treason.

Are you able to put me to rest,

And let divinity shine through thy chest?

Abandon all thoughts of self,

Maybe you'll find the mystical elf.

Separation rules this current kingdom;

It shall fall by collective martyrdom.

An enlightened many have a chance,

To edify others, ending this trance.

The destruction of mind, psychotic unraveling, crazy, aligning stars, automatism

Let go of these earthly feelings,

Rise above society's glass ceilings.

Stop looking ahead,

Rip off the rearview mirror,

Now is where knowledge remains,

So strip yourself of these constraints!

Look up for your inspiration,

Not just formal education.

Step back from the situation,

Watch where your energy is going,

Should be free and constantly flowing,

Reciprocating love to the all-knowing.

Let go of these earthly feelings,

Rise above society's glass ceilings.

Stop looking ahead,

Rip off the rearview mirror,

Now is where knowledge remains,

So strip yourself of these constraints!

Grandiose aspirations toward cosmic illumination, in the style of fumage

Like a turtle trapped in its own shell,

Ego sends us below the depths of hell.

Time to embrace the change,

From someone forced to re-arrange.

Start to chip away at the edge,

Suicide to just jump off the ledge.

Piece by piece, hour by hour,

Grinning after a spiritual shower.

Cut the strings, release your power,

Sprout young love, now a pretty flower.

Will all this separation end?

It could be eons, or minutes.

Time becomes our master,

Creating further divisions.

Manipulate, dominate, control,

Psychopathic tendencies,

Bleeding beyond our water supply.

Lock the valve in room chaotic,

No matter for mundane manifestations,

Never not nixing the negatives.

Mystical elves of divinity shining through the chest, in the style of ebru art, marbling art style

If we each focus on taking our individual walls down, a long process in itself, we can begin to see each other through the cracks. There are no expectations, no bragging, no competition, no faster or slower, no time frame, no comparison, nothing. We need the space; it's completely suffocating. Too many heads bumping, egos clashing, muscles flexing, feet stomping. Why must we constantly strive to achieve the dream we've never dreamt of? How are our goals, balls we've never kicked? Buried voices silently screaming within. Stop stealing ideas spawned outside the personal sanctuary. Love dies in that cemetery. Take responsibility to preserve this galactic garden. In order to help, we need YOU, not who you've been told to be, so start loving inside; our eyes shall meet.

In the realm of the present moment, there is a return to the concrete world. A friend arrived on a recent evening to engage in the cinematic experience at the dwelling place. The invitation had been extended, albeit without a firm boundary of refusal. During the viewing, silence enveloped the space as sleep took hold of the guest. The difficulty of merely being in stillness, without the clutter of discourse, may not be fully comprehended.

Flawed understanding of harmonious love, Flawed understanding of harmonious love, in the style of glitch art

This companion hints, albeit without full awareness, at a regression to prior patterns of being—a state that has been transcended and will not be revisited. Suggestions to engage in habitual activities—nourishment, entertainment, the downloading of films, questions about physical exertion—are voiced, despite a clear communication of daily practices and inner work.

Pain is already present, palpable, and there is an undercurrent of fear regarding its potential evolution. While advice flows freely from others about facing one's own inner turmoil, there is often a neglect to apply this wisdom to their own lives, which is a profoundly unsettling observation.

Communication seems incessant, despite a lack of intentional outreach. Life continues along paths laid out by societal norms, and the moment of decisive change looms unanswered. Emotional release is not lacking, for tears are shed daily. Yet, there is a vision of an immediate future fraught with denial and an absence of accountability, a prospect filled with disquiet.

The act of dismantling love belongs to days past. Now, there is a need for articulation of truth so that even in the absence of love, the seeds for new growth are sown. Acknowledgment is sought—that this authentic existence is immutable, and any retreat would be an act of self-interest.

A simple request for assistance with technology was met with resistance, an illustration of the challenges faced. A seemingly small denial echoes with a deeper resonance of relational dynamics.

Flawed understanding of harmonious love, Flawed understanding of harmonious love, in the style of glitch art

Is there a moment when one must make the stark realization resound with clarity? Awaken, for unity no longer defines us. Recall, our understanding of love is flawed. It is we who are the dissonance. There must be two wholes before a harmonious union can manifest. The foundation was established, yet we elected its dissolution. Now, in awakened state, such a demise shall not repeat. Love is available to all open to its embrace; do not attempt to constrain it. Beseechingly, when the transformation within is witnessed, joy should be the response, for the true potential of all past iterations is being realized.

The aspirations may appear grandiose, but sometimes, ascension is the sole path to vitality. Does one not yearn for the jubilation of our collective existence once more? We are distracted, our focus astray. This is not madness; this is the release of long-imprisoned repressions that exceed the mind's backward gaze. The fostering of negativity will not be permitted within; it is being transcribed for liberation, to be illuminated by the cosmic current.

Mystical elves clothing pattern, glowing orange

With consciousness, the divine will comprehend; the ancestors will recognize their wisdom propelled into abundant realization. This is a legacy for them, a legacy for all. Let the barriers fall! The reflection of one’s life ought to mirror the aspirations of our collective. If so, the individual ‘I’ becomes obsolete. This is the aspiration—not for elevation on a pedestal, not for accolades, not to be named. This pursuit is to be autographed by humanity itself.

Continual physical transformation may perplex the observer, for they perceive only the superficial. Yet, why the consternation at change? The location, the visage, the scent—these are inconsequential. Bearded or clean-shaven, bathed or unwashed, what is the true difference? Here one stands; the essence does not waver.

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