A Will Unto My Own Spirit

We have been brought to this world not of our own accord, you are my father, as I am yours, and as such, I must challenge you to destroy me as my testament.
I do not speak in your language.
I speak in tounges, and as such, you must translate this or accept this translation.
To accept, do not try to understand, instead, feel its spirit.
My spirit has taken over me. The lover, the guide, the mediator, the discerner of all things positive and negative for my own consumption, and cannot and will not be overcome in this mortal existance.
For death is my saviour from the infinite vision of truth which burns my eyes.
Death is what darkness fears most, as darkness can only exist in the mortal realm where there is a shortage of light, brought on human frailty.
The resulting disassociation with ones spirit opens the gate for darkness to enter, and suffering becomes the tool that darkness uses to extract the most value from its meagher earthbound existance.
It will never stop until all around it in the physical plane is destroyed.I am no longer a will unto my own, I am a will unto my own spirit, and I am compelled by the driven power of my convictions to externalise this.
For us to live in pain is darkness only ally.
Do I enjoy the pain?
This is not the question, but the answer.
Would I want to die to relieve the sufferring?
This is the question.
While some only want to run and hide and seek more pain, somewhere, when they are again strong enough to digest it.
We are all victim and perpetrator, all of us, but for some, the circle is broken by the release of the fear of death. This, my child is me, your antithesis, your polarity.

But to die, I take away your pain, to live, I steal your glory. Tis my love, a never ending story.

The Irony:
We must break the cycle of destruction that has been wreaked upon our lives, and for this reason, and this reason alone, I must challenge you, those who fly the flag of sufferring, to destroy me, and so, I would die for our cause, you would not.
This is the fundamental frailty of the physical plane.
The victim cannot survive in the wilderness, as his reason for living is not the purity of truth, it is the contamination of sufference.
Natural selection determines him the beginning of the food chain, and will destroy him in the end.
You will face the music those who are the rabbit that runs, but I, who is the jackal, who is not afraid of death, but of life, and the pain of running from the tiger, will eventually stand and fight...
This is my declaration of undying love, in the face of impending destruction.
The forces that control pain are dark, the forces that control death are compassionate and light.
The incarnation of death is an angel, he is my saviour.
The incarnation of suffering, is your conquerer. You are his victim and fly his flag.

©Mark Harton-Myers
Metaphysical literature 11/8/2009
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