Many failures before me.
Failures in me from outside.
These first come to mind, should it be a mystery?
The failures were painful, defeats from above.
They solidified an understanding, of what not to do.
That became a moral position, for the greater quality of the good.
This one wants efficiency, no more waste of life.
If he ever goes to waste, or does the opposite of this life-by-reason
He’ll not regret. He’ll know he’s done his very best.
Rotten at the roots, cutting at the branches does nothing.
Punishment, revenge, it only attacks the result not the cause.
Wisdom, strong and complete intelligence, those would have been more like a cure.
He believed, and will again try to believe.
At a certian level, and only then, a sort of non-harmful conquest can arise.
This level of precision is so meticulus, and takes so long to develop, that most have taken the fast route instead. The faster, easier way, which wastes allot and comes at a great price.
Politics. Virus. Toxin. Death.
I have to evolve, faster and faster.
It’s too much to bare, but the next day, maybe it wont be.
Get better than them, immune, then they wont be harmful anymore.
With the proper skin, the environment no-longer dissolves the flesh.
With the proper immune-system, no more parasites can survive within.
But lately I worry and I wonder, have I reached my limit?
I need new blood, I need to be taken.
I need to find someone better than me, and then to have them take me over. To have them change me, to be better. If I cannot better myself, then someone else must. If only someone could cure me.
Once cured I’d no longer be poisonous unto the lovable others.
I was once told that reality itself is a predator.
Could that be true?
All things dissolving into this giant universal stomach acid.
I’d want my friends to be indigestable.
More than once, my greatest prize and my biggest desire, crushed and inverted by what they call ‘fate’… All sacred things stomped out.