Existence is Fluid;
the Universe is Multiple;
Each Life is Unique;
A Human is Born Free;
Justice is its Need;
Happiness is Holistic;
God is You.
I am tired of walking
On your dreary paths.
I shall rather sleep
On a patch of grass which is my own,
And later fly in a sky which chooses me.
My life has too much laughter destined for it.
I can’t waste my breath
Running after dreams
Which you failed to achieve,
Or obeying rules
Which failed you.
In order to find what was before existence, what will be after it and what it is, we have to peel the layers of our own presence until we have undone ourselves — reached that point where existence and non-existence cease to be apart.
The absolute truth, hence, requires our absolute death as a precondition.
We can’t be IN existence and discover non-existence.
All theories about such a subject will be mere conjectures.
The Oceans have lost their depth,
The night has killed its stars.
All the metaphors have broken-down,
Meaning was empty since the Start.
If you want to speak to me,
Look into my eyes.
The Cult of Metamorphose was established when a man had decided that he wanted his left hand to be replaced by an octopus limb.
But when some new members got bored with being just a fashion fad, they had invented a philosophy in order to be taken a bit more seriously.
“Freedom With Mutilation,” their tagline now said.
They aimed, according to their new manifesto, to be anything they wanted to be.
They proclaimed to be the first ones to prison-break from their human cage, and thrive to spread the tale.
The number of body parts one would cut-off was equally proportionate to the level of freedom they ascended to.
Their big moment of shock was when they discovered that their philosophy actually worked.
Mutilation not only granted them freedom from the human body, but also from the human world.
Members highest in the hierarchy could now transcend to other worlds, often to find some cheap substitute for alcohol (with no hangovers), but also because of spiritual enlightenment.
Soon, people flooded this new cult, and they had enough members to organize parades.
People would fix tentacles to their residual limbs, wear hooves instead of human feet, replace their noses with beaks and dance to Electronic Dance Music.
It was largely ignored by the conventional press, because the cult forcibly mutilated any reporters.
And hence, their fame was based on word-of-mouth marketing.
It was the first time that the cult had come to the neighborhood of Hanel Alchemist.
The venue of the parade was decided by rolling dice and often, they would randomly stumble upon people who needed their help.
So you can be sure that the parade was there for Hanel Alchemist. Although none of them knew it then.
— X —
A snippet from my in-progress Bizzaro novel, Hanel Alchemist, where the protagonist mines toes, stumbles upon a woman with seven breasts and deals with daddy issues in order to look for his twin who died in the womb.