Blue, like what the sky is aiming for

Yeah, sure, I miss her just as much as anybody else. Probably a fair amount more. I didn’t think much of her at first, just someone else making a riddle out of thin air. I solved the riddle quickly by being nice. But the truth was so beautiful, it altered my world. You haven’t been rocked until you’ve looked into the eyes of genius, and you haven’t known pain until they have asked you to leave. You haven’t been moved until you have seen nobility spat on. You haven’t known joy until you have witnessed the creation of art. You don’t know who God is until you meet one of his daughters.

Blue, like what the sky is aiming for.

_
=D>

Strictly out of curiosity, why is the “creative writing” here often so obscure? Especially at a philosophy forum. I mean if this were a poetry forum or a literature forum, the creative use of language might go in any number of directions.

But blue like what the sky is aiming for?

Beyond the manner in which the words might, for particular individuals, evoke intuitive, visceral or esthetic reactions, is there any actual point that is being made in posting this? A point that might convey some existential meaning relevant to the life that one lives?

If she were to read this, what might her reaction be?

And why is a philosophy forum, on the other hand become a menu for synctatic neo-positive assertions, delimiting essential associations toward tautology rather than the potential for wider essayed resourceful exploration ?
Why such stricture of interpretation reduce architectural aesthetics into a pointallistic minimalism, without connection to the meaning of that essay?

I think that kind of process sets the margins of description into a position of contexts that are programmed deferentially by a definite model that delimits it’s self unto a regression ad absurdum.

Not that the absurd has not at any time been an art-firm, pervy to the charge of misunderstanding, but absurdity has lost it’s legs to stand on the very solid ground that needed to be demonstratedly shown to stand on.

So critics can not declare absurdity the art form unintelligible, while claiming intelligently that it has no grounds of becoming an art form, thereby asserting it’s negation of having no describable ground.

Then they send it up into the stratosphere where they duly belong, denying it’s credible source’d progression.

Impressions of the world as described at the level beyond it’s vocal exoression, it’s self are intended as well with merely one stroke of the brush.

We the world turns, to be sure, but admittedly at a vastly sped up turn to be sure.

Ideally, it’s pretty bad for those, that would rather it revolved minimally, and they call that surpassed.

Even those who can claim they are over it, are appraised as such, even if it stands up to their disadvantage, or in a light of recessed artistic distance or points of interest in relation to the depth of expression projected as grounded in denial.

Message: the modern phenomena do nit freely give much slack to conventional interpretation

Or, where does, if at any time does 'poetic license have legitimacy?

Note to Pedro:

Of course I apologize for provoking this:

Actually, I thought that this was beautiful especially the second half from ,But the truth was so beautiful…and onward.
It moved me and brought tears to my eyes.

I will not ask you what the last line signifies. This is something that we all work out for ourselves.