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Magnum Opus Gnosis
As I sat pushing my perception above the laws of physics to the point of extremity, pursuing thoughts led me astray beyond the reverie boundaries of peripheral oculus properties. A shivering chill pervaded my spirit, a palpable corporeal phantasm yielding my pre and postsynaptic itinerary in his dimension. I disregarded all means of escape, jounce towards my door, slamming it followed by a *click*, locking the door. As papers dance their way downward towards the floor, a whistle reverberates along the walls of the antichamber, followed by the shaking of the door handle from whatever was on the other side fiddling with the lock. A sudden silence soon anchored my legs, an unknown pressure holding me in place leaving me incapable of fighting back despite my physical attributes. Then abruptly, the door slammed open, gushing winds that blew out the candles that once provided protection. An fetid aura of death permeates the open space left in its wake. "We meet again" as it steps out the shadow that enveloped him. "Thought I forgot about you?"
"No, not you again, I can't handle another expedition."
"Oh hush. You want to see beyond the stars? They're more than meets the eyes. Allow this reciprocal intermission to proceed."
Chorus
There's no point in fighting back or even gravel. Immensely powerful universal ensemble. With the magical power to capture a genie in a bottle, he is who turned my poem into a novel.
Living life but unaware who's life I'm living. Feel the fury of nature's imagination, contemplating where I should end or where to start, from a star or a quark. I guess this is how we start this embark. Multi interdimensional cosmological eclipse dictating from an epoch moments before my quantum reality shifts into a flat surface like disk, capturing glimpses of images floating adrift in my photography rift where this whole galaxy exists. Bequeathing the triple star systems sunlight emitting off my eyes, causing my perception to split. Alpha Centauri dust belt greets us upon entering its magnetic field by means of raucous luminal travel as we enter this exoplanet's orbit. It has the potential to hold water, known as Earth's cousin. Everywhere I look, everywhere I see, a distant glimpse of home at every gaze. Now tell me why must I still fall victim to home sickness.
Chorus
There's no point in fighting back or even gravel. Immensely powerful universal ensemble. With the magical power to capture a genie in a bottle, he is who turned my poem into a novel.
The burning ice of my soul began to defrost, desperately scrambling for possession of a gun hidden in a secret compartment within the drawers of my nightstand. A luger was my only opportunity, so I thought. I pressed it against my temple hoping to end this game before it evolves into something palpably atrocious. Without a second thought I pulled the trigger back, *BOOM*. The sound of shattering glass only emitted. What arose from the rivers of my soul was an Angel. An angel consisting of 6 wings, and it said "I am thou, thou art I. I am that last beat of thy heart and the first breath thy partake. I'm contorted from many into one, conceived in the hearts by the thoughts of everyone. Perceived in quantum dimensional realms of thy own reality, an unforgettable personality existing on opposite sides of a Multiversal Omniverse manifestation. Brought to you just beyond the mirror in this plain of existence. I am nyx, holder of the cards. The time has come, open thine eyes and pull out what's hidden from within". With a cacophonic roar boisterously expounding its arcana shift, knowledge instantly flashed before my eyes, experiencing them all at once.
1. The will to persevere a dream through pure determination.
2. Wisdom withheld from the silence of one's heart.
3. Able to identify and flourish in the precious life that we are given.
4. Seeking an answer no matter if the odds are stacked against them.
5. Believe in yourself as we do in God to guide our life like a boat towards the light.
6. Bask in effulgence of understanding one another.
7. One of the best blessings is having the freedom of free will.
8. Going down your true path amongst blissful thoughts of uncertainty.
9. Self-reflection, introspection, knowing your own self without the deed of judging others.
10. We all fall victim to time which gives cruelty to any life, led by the fate of our own decision.
11. To endure suffering and torment requires great strength.
12. If your world crumbles around you, it only gives you the opportunity to build a better one.
13. Beyond the beaten path lies the absolute end. No matter who you are, you cannot avoid death. To live is to die; they are one in the same.
With each arcana shift displayed, the arcana is the means which all is revealed.
It is revealed my true arcane is death. Writing is a cursed gift or a gifted curse? Leaving me dancing to moonlight sonata in my own turmoil.
Chorus
There's no point in fighting back or even gravel. Immensely powerful universal ensemble. With the magical power to capture a genie in a bottle, he is who turned my poem into a novel.
Is the answer to life is death or something more? Precognitive fallen stars change cognitive hearts of the embodiment of the accumulated malice of those who wish to seek it. My resolve dissolved into a mystery till this day which is still unsolved. Galactic filaments stretch far and thin of an interwoven cosmic web coherent to the butterfly effect feeding a kinect feeder to reconstruct the subatomic matter of a collapsing star into a spinning glistening gem. The place I inhabit is my central access to learn most about myself, my room. Moving of the sun, transitions north pole and south pole flipping them upside down, switching its orbital position. That is a full cycle from a mind so elegantly, eloquently divine, perpetually deferring from holding up the sky. Astronomical philosophy flummoxed from an lummox individual. Mental exodus careen triggered my fight or flight when coming to a concluding serendipitous equivocation.
Chorus
There's no point in fighting back or even gravel. Immensely powerful universal ensemble. With the magical power to capture a genie in a bottle, he is who turned my poem into a novel.
Top of the Tower of Tartarus or rather the lowest level of Tartarus dwelled interstellar, interdimensional, cosmological deceptive perception of a tesseract floating just above a stratus fog. A crystallized compendium collates hail, snow, and rain pushing with a tempest force that lugs your foot across the floor. The malevolent beelzebub invades your thoughts. Known by many names. The lord of flies, the stench, and the Philistine, along with Baal and many more all tingle the tendrils in my cranial labyrinth. Beaming out a haze of concentrated heat from an orbital strike coming from the hammer of dawn to clear out whatever's left in the aftermath that shriveled my perception into a balled up piece of paper and left in a crinkled state.
Chorus
There's no point in fighting back or even gravel. Immensely powerful universal ensemble. With the magical power to capture a genie in a bottle, he is who turned my poem into a novel.
Hello all the boys and girls,
What is wrong with this whole world?
Can't let go what once was held,
Trapped inside this mental hell,
Was it strife or was it wealth?
Does this thing ring any bells?
Please inform us, I can't tell.
Let's leave this question somewhere else,
With that said, I guess oh well.
Many concentrated combinations of consecrated incantations in combinatorics formulate an oasis beyond simplification stimulating this simulation.
Chorus
There's no point in fighting back or even gravel. Immensely powerful universal ensemble. With the magical power to capture a genie in a bottle, he is who turned my poem into a novel.
"Please stop, no more. I can't take it anymore". I say as I lay in prostration on the floor. "Nonsense" he responds intending to continue to show me what he has in store. "Allow me to mollycoddle you into a deeper state". The whole ground shakes causing the ground underneath me to break as I fall into a darkness size replica of a voorish type nebula. Pulling towards the current in a wormhole directing me where to go. I've seen mind over matter comparatives plighted in stars which are now interlinked filigree dangling aloft my psychic mind. So much consciousness generated by one brain forcibly inducing a time skip for further information in time dilation of what my mind is contemplating in my imagination is now under investigation. I have no choice but to loiter in my quantum mechanical reverie sleep state shaped as an intricate hyperbolic sierpinski triangle. I must have vomited a commit from the immense speed, increasing volatile blood flow. Hence, affecting the way I think.
Chorus
There's no point in fighting back or even gravel. Immensely powerful universal ensemble. With the magical power to capture a genie in a bottle, he is who turned my poem into a novel.
Extant far in a paradox where my adventure starts at the present, to the future to end up in the past. Space time warps into untold mysteries, folding abhorrently. All I could do is curl up into a ball, cover my ears and close my eyes and pray this ends expeditiously. Soon I felt my perusal copious perambulates gaunt my mind where I move towards earth faster than the speed of light. Moving at the speed of dark that I never saw coming. Awaken and shaken with a tingling sensation with each palpitation as I sit looking and losing myself in desperation of what has just been created from my imagination for everyone to see as another mental embarkation symbolized nothing less than a laceration, intangible, insatiable, creation that I myself find out of my own contemplation.
Chorus
There's no point in fighting back or even gravel. Immensely powerful universal ensemble. With the magical power to capture a genie in a bottle, he is who turned my poem into a novel.
Chameleon color shifting moon crystalized into a work of art, basking in a proliferated cosmos that shapes itself around it. 14,400 to 19,200 blinks a day, blink once and you'll miss its thermodynamics and aerodynamics algorithm. Astrophysically approaching absolute zero to freezing and bending light into a solid state. In a state of solitude I found solace in complete darkness. I vent beyond fear, only slight discomfort amongst light that peered through the cracks of my eyelids. So my blinks decreased every hour of every day until one day, I only blinked once per day, opening only to greet the next day. Darkness never judged my actions. Hiding my tears behind the dam walls of my eyelids slowly saturating my laden dossier caprice, sluicing me further into darkness where upcoming oblivion awaits my arrival. Hoping for nothing but to be greeted by loved ones on the other side smiling genuinely and abundantly. Upon opening my eyes for the last time was nothing extraordinary but a light that greeted me. A light that I didn't want or rather deserved to save me. At the perihelion of abnegation, but the silent voice in my heart yet again invades my thoughts, my subconscious subconsciously communicated with my conscience and consciously conjectured an alcove for vigor inimical penultimate.
Chorus
There's no point in fighting back or even gravel. Immensely powerful universal ensemble. With the magical power to capture a genie in a bottle, he is who turned my poem into a novel.
Atmospheric pressure changes galactical illimitable animosity, and atrocities, to anomalies from a solid stellar disk to a flat-like whirlpool. Astral projection manipulation of cognition constitutive to the human body desperately searching for my host where I once recited. Thinking as if my brain was never present, cognition extending through reaches of emotion. As I live, speak, and communicate with such intentions began to construct life on its own, which was more than I intended, now our cognition is extended through bonds of what I like to call, love's commutative dimension. Adjustable algorithm modifying in a perpetual loop. Coherently feeding my persona's power via means of bonds. Now it all makes sense, of this man who sent me on this project was only to feed the power of my own cognition from my own persona—
Chorus
There's no point in fighting back or even gravel. Immensely powerful universal ensemble. With the magical power to capture a genie in a bottle, he is who turned my poem into a novel.
"I know who you are" I say gasping for air through the looking glass of water reflecting in a ripple of myself manifesting just beyond me. "Took you long enough. What an adventure you had to voyage. Now do you see? Why this is a work of art, why someone steals a kiss because you stole their heart? What stretches as far as the distance you go? Love. Love reaches as far as you go basking alone in the memories you each shared. Liquid poetry is the blood I bleed, poetry is oxygen, the air I breathe. Evident through sentences coming to life as you read into a dream as real as you see you and me. Do you feel that knowledge? Do you feel that power? This is that feeling when one heart connects to another." Now I know the power, it in turn, enhances my orgasmic protoplasmic holographic maverick. From a telepathic, photographic, gymnastic acrobatics subtracted madness to magic in my cranial philosophic labyrinth. Inadvertently taking my sadness by the handle into an action to wield its metallic italic habit to wreak havoc by this melodramatic man perceived as Swagtastic who writes to the edge of his limits that challenges the reader along with himself to keep on going no matter the situation. Forever at my zenith hoping to approach my apogee, I'm ashamed that I may be my own casualty in an attempt to reach a level of such prestigious regality. I write so much that I take the track on a ride where no one reads its content? It may be nonsense because this composition snapped and collapsed my synapse in the process.
© All Rights Reserved
"No, not you again, I can't handle another expedition."
"Oh hush. You want to see beyond the stars? They're more than meets the eyes. Allow this reciprocal intermission to proceed."
Chorus
There's no point in fighting back or even gravel. Immensely powerful universal ensemble. With the magical power to capture a genie in a bottle, he is who turned my poem into a novel.
Living life but unaware who's life I'm living. Feel the fury of nature's imagination, contemplating where I should end or where to start, from a star or a quark. I guess this is how we start this embark. Multi interdimensional cosmological eclipse dictating from an epoch moments before my quantum reality shifts into a flat surface like disk, capturing glimpses of images floating adrift in my photography rift where this whole galaxy exists. Bequeathing the triple star systems sunlight emitting off my eyes, causing my perception to split. Alpha Centauri dust belt greets us upon entering its magnetic field by means of raucous luminal travel as we enter this exoplanet's orbit. It has the potential to hold water, known as Earth's cousin. Everywhere I look, everywhere I see, a distant glimpse of home at every gaze. Now tell me why must I still fall victim to home sickness.
Chorus
There's no point in fighting back or even gravel. Immensely powerful universal ensemble. With the magical power to capture a genie in a bottle, he is who turned my poem into a novel.
The burning ice of my soul began to defrost, desperately scrambling for possession of a gun hidden in a secret compartment within the drawers of my nightstand. A luger was my only opportunity, so I thought. I pressed it against my temple hoping to end this game before it evolves into something palpably atrocious. Without a second thought I pulled the trigger back, *BOOM*. The sound of shattering glass only emitted. What arose from the rivers of my soul was an Angel. An angel consisting of 6 wings, and it said "I am thou, thou art I. I am that last beat of thy heart and the first breath thy partake. I'm contorted from many into one, conceived in the hearts by the thoughts of everyone. Perceived in quantum dimensional realms of thy own reality, an unforgettable personality existing on opposite sides of a Multiversal Omniverse manifestation. Brought to you just beyond the mirror in this plain of existence. I am nyx, holder of the cards. The time has come, open thine eyes and pull out what's hidden from within". With a cacophonic roar boisterously expounding its arcana shift, knowledge instantly flashed before my eyes, experiencing them all at once.
1. The will to persevere a dream through pure determination.
2. Wisdom withheld from the silence of one's heart.
3. Able to identify and flourish in the precious life that we are given.
4. Seeking an answer no matter if the odds are stacked against them.
5. Believe in yourself as we do in God to guide our life like a boat towards the light.
6. Bask in effulgence of understanding one another.
7. One of the best blessings is having the freedom of free will.
8. Going down your true path amongst blissful thoughts of uncertainty.
9. Self-reflection, introspection, knowing your own self without the deed of judging others.
10. We all fall victim to time which gives cruelty to any life, led by the fate of our own decision.
11. To endure suffering and torment requires great strength.
12. If your world crumbles around you, it only gives you the opportunity to build a better one.
13. Beyond the beaten path lies the absolute end. No matter who you are, you cannot avoid death. To live is to die; they are one in the same.
With each arcana shift displayed, the arcana is the means which all is revealed.
It is revealed my true arcane is death. Writing is a cursed gift or a gifted curse? Leaving me dancing to moonlight sonata in my own turmoil.
Chorus
There's no point in fighting back or even gravel. Immensely powerful universal ensemble. With the magical power to capture a genie in a bottle, he is who turned my poem into a novel.
Is the answer to life is death or something more? Precognitive fallen stars change cognitive hearts of the embodiment of the accumulated malice of those who wish to seek it. My resolve dissolved into a mystery till this day which is still unsolved. Galactic filaments stretch far and thin of an interwoven cosmic web coherent to the butterfly effect feeding a kinect feeder to reconstruct the subatomic matter of a collapsing star into a spinning glistening gem. The place I inhabit is my central access to learn most about myself, my room. Moving of the sun, transitions north pole and south pole flipping them upside down, switching its orbital position. That is a full cycle from a mind so elegantly, eloquently divine, perpetually deferring from holding up the sky. Astronomical philosophy flummoxed from an lummox individual. Mental exodus careen triggered my fight or flight when coming to a concluding serendipitous equivocation.
Chorus
There's no point in fighting back or even gravel. Immensely powerful universal ensemble. With the magical power to capture a genie in a bottle, he is who turned my poem into a novel.
Top of the Tower of Tartarus or rather the lowest level of Tartarus dwelled interstellar, interdimensional, cosmological deceptive perception of a tesseract floating just above a stratus fog. A crystallized compendium collates hail, snow, and rain pushing with a tempest force that lugs your foot across the floor. The malevolent beelzebub invades your thoughts. Known by many names. The lord of flies, the stench, and the Philistine, along with Baal and many more all tingle the tendrils in my cranial labyrinth. Beaming out a haze of concentrated heat from an orbital strike coming from the hammer of dawn to clear out whatever's left in the aftermath that shriveled my perception into a balled up piece of paper and left in a crinkled state.
Chorus
There's no point in fighting back or even gravel. Immensely powerful universal ensemble. With the magical power to capture a genie in a bottle, he is who turned my poem into a novel.
Hello all the boys and girls,
What is wrong with this whole world?
Can't let go what once was held,
Trapped inside this mental hell,
Was it strife or was it wealth?
Does this thing ring any bells?
Please inform us, I can't tell.
Let's leave this question somewhere else,
With that said, I guess oh well.
Many concentrated combinations of consecrated incantations in combinatorics formulate an oasis beyond simplification stimulating this simulation.
Chorus
There's no point in fighting back or even gravel. Immensely powerful universal ensemble. With the magical power to capture a genie in a bottle, he is who turned my poem into a novel.
"Please stop, no more. I can't take it anymore". I say as I lay in prostration on the floor. "Nonsense" he responds intending to continue to show me what he has in store. "Allow me to mollycoddle you into a deeper state". The whole ground shakes causing the ground underneath me to break as I fall into a darkness size replica of a voorish type nebula. Pulling towards the current in a wormhole directing me where to go. I've seen mind over matter comparatives plighted in stars which are now interlinked filigree dangling aloft my psychic mind. So much consciousness generated by one brain forcibly inducing a time skip for further information in time dilation of what my mind is contemplating in my imagination is now under investigation. I have no choice but to loiter in my quantum mechanical reverie sleep state shaped as an intricate hyperbolic sierpinski triangle. I must have vomited a commit from the immense speed, increasing volatile blood flow. Hence, affecting the way I think.
Chorus
There's no point in fighting back or even gravel. Immensely powerful universal ensemble. With the magical power to capture a genie in a bottle, he is who turned my poem into a novel.
Extant far in a paradox where my adventure starts at the present, to the future to end up in the past. Space time warps into untold mysteries, folding abhorrently. All I could do is curl up into a ball, cover my ears and close my eyes and pray this ends expeditiously. Soon I felt my perusal copious perambulates gaunt my mind where I move towards earth faster than the speed of light. Moving at the speed of dark that I never saw coming. Awaken and shaken with a tingling sensation with each palpitation as I sit looking and losing myself in desperation of what has just been created from my imagination for everyone to see as another mental embarkation symbolized nothing less than a laceration, intangible, insatiable, creation that I myself find out of my own contemplation.
Chorus
There's no point in fighting back or even gravel. Immensely powerful universal ensemble. With the magical power to capture a genie in a bottle, he is who turned my poem into a novel.
Chameleon color shifting moon crystalized into a work of art, basking in a proliferated cosmos that shapes itself around it. 14,400 to 19,200 blinks a day, blink once and you'll miss its thermodynamics and aerodynamics algorithm. Astrophysically approaching absolute zero to freezing and bending light into a solid state. In a state of solitude I found solace in complete darkness. I vent beyond fear, only slight discomfort amongst light that peered through the cracks of my eyelids. So my blinks decreased every hour of every day until one day, I only blinked once per day, opening only to greet the next day. Darkness never judged my actions. Hiding my tears behind the dam walls of my eyelids slowly saturating my laden dossier caprice, sluicing me further into darkness where upcoming oblivion awaits my arrival. Hoping for nothing but to be greeted by loved ones on the other side smiling genuinely and abundantly. Upon opening my eyes for the last time was nothing extraordinary but a light that greeted me. A light that I didn't want or rather deserved to save me. At the perihelion of abnegation, but the silent voice in my heart yet again invades my thoughts, my subconscious subconsciously communicated with my conscience and consciously conjectured an alcove for vigor inimical penultimate.
Chorus
There's no point in fighting back or even gravel. Immensely powerful universal ensemble. With the magical power to capture a genie in a bottle, he is who turned my poem into a novel.
Atmospheric pressure changes galactical illimitable animosity, and atrocities, to anomalies from a solid stellar disk to a flat-like whirlpool. Astral projection manipulation of cognition constitutive to the human body desperately searching for my host where I once recited. Thinking as if my brain was never present, cognition extending through reaches of emotion. As I live, speak, and communicate with such intentions began to construct life on its own, which was more than I intended, now our cognition is extended through bonds of what I like to call, love's commutative dimension. Adjustable algorithm modifying in a perpetual loop. Coherently feeding my persona's power via means of bonds. Now it all makes sense, of this man who sent me on this project was only to feed the power of my own cognition from my own persona—
Chorus
There's no point in fighting back or even gravel. Immensely powerful universal ensemble. With the magical power to capture a genie in a bottle, he is who turned my poem into a novel.
"I know who you are" I say gasping for air through the looking glass of water reflecting in a ripple of myself manifesting just beyond me. "Took you long enough. What an adventure you had to voyage. Now do you see? Why this is a work of art, why someone steals a kiss because you stole their heart? What stretches as far as the distance you go? Love. Love reaches as far as you go basking alone in the memories you each shared. Liquid poetry is the blood I bleed, poetry is oxygen, the air I breathe. Evident through sentences coming to life as you read into a dream as real as you see you and me. Do you feel that knowledge? Do you feel that power? This is that feeling when one heart connects to another." Now I know the power, it in turn, enhances my orgasmic protoplasmic holographic maverick. From a telepathic, photographic, gymnastic acrobatics subtracted madness to magic in my cranial philosophic labyrinth. Inadvertently taking my sadness by the handle into an action to wield its metallic italic habit to wreak havoc by this melodramatic man perceived as Swagtastic who writes to the edge of his limits that challenges the reader along with himself to keep on going no matter the situation. Forever at my zenith hoping to approach my apogee, I'm ashamed that I may be my own casualty in an attempt to reach a level of such prestigious regality. I write so much that I take the track on a ride where no one reads its content? It may be nonsense because this composition snapped and collapsed my synapse in the process.
© All Rights Reserved
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