This is the end (for you my friend)

do not seek a meaning in life or purpose, as all will end in nought.
do not contemplate existence, as it is merely another exercise in futility.
do not seek to be understood.
do not seek to understand.

life is a mystery.
life is turmoil.
cold sweat.
paranoia.
disbelief.
superficiality.

do not seek a meaning to life.
life is, ultimately, a circle.
ouroboros.
it is a symbol of the end, as it is a symbol of the beginning.

the course of lfe is like a river.
turbulent.
erratic.
terminal.
the only constant in life is death.

why do i seek a purpose?
all will come to nought.
nothing matters.

conformity.
hedonism.
all it matters is superficiality.

i see everyone.
trying their best not to look ugly.
trying their best to fit in.
why?

what happened to the lutheran ideal of having a new world order.
a true meritocracy.
where everyone is judged not by looks.
not by wealth.
not by position.
but by content of character.

i've tried my best to be the best i can be.
in vain.

now that i start.
upon my chosen way.
each thing i do.
my thought my work my play.
grant which is promised.
courage new to be.
to be the best.
the best that i can be.

the world needs hope.
a messiah.
something to believe in.

do not be fooled by illusions of love.
by promises.
all is one.
truth is a lie.
we're all gonna burn.
we'll all take turns.

hope is to be the saviour of life.
but is life in itself worthy of salvation?
even those who profess to be upright of character.
those who preach salvation from the pulpit.
no one is innocent.
god hates us all.

there are no souls of the faultless.
our social order has long ago sold our souls to material pleasure.
we are all sinners.
we glorify the unworthy whores of babylon while we mock those who genuinely want to be true to themselves.

we all deserve to die.
there is no freedom.
there is no individuality.
there is no duality.
all is one.
we'll all burn in the end.

we may profess to love our fellow man.
but when the time comes.
who will stand by their "loved ones"?
there is no love.
there s but humanity.
greed.
selfishness.
the whole throngs of society that unquestioningly conform to their social roles.
you are but the devil's spawn.

there will be nobody to mourn you, mein friend.
your tale will be but a distant memory.
angels do not have memories.
they forget.

we are all but losers in the game of life.
we have no purposes.
are we pawns of a higher being?
are we but helpless objects of amusement in a terrarium?
alas, we will never live to find out.

it doesn't matter.
man does not deserve to find out the truth.
the evils of society have pervaded every facet of our being.
from the victim of the serpent, we are now our greatest nightmare.
our greatest fear lies in the mirror.
we are our own punishment.

you may say that the subtleties of love are strangling you.
i beg to differ.
we are all strangling ourselves.
there is no love.
love is just a fucking sick joke.
a game played by the heartless.

i believed in goodness among man.
i was wrong.
very wrong.

goodness does not exist in times of peace.
we are all brothers when times are plenty.
the only real test of humanity is the ending of it.
deliciously ironic, seeing that the only constant in life is death.

maybe 1 day you'll all see that we are disposable soldiers.
born to die.
we all may busy ourselves like ants.
but in the greater scheme of things do our actions truly have any consequence?
death is a great social leveler.
we may have many wordly gains, or none at all.
but in death, we are all free.
and equal.

redefine wisdom.
the true master of death is not the one who wields it as a weapon of terror.
the master of death is one who is able to accept it as part of life.

we all go eventually.
we will never know when our time is.
we go to sleep placing faith in the idea that we will wake up and continue living.
may it be too late?
if i die before i wake.
i leave the lord my soul to take.

there is no beast.
there is no devil.
when we hear the voice of the devil, it is but the echo of our own voices.
we are all devils.
we are our own worst nightmare.

it goes on, on and on.
its heaven and hell.
there is no heaven.
there is no hell.
there is only earth.
hell sometimes dresses up as heaven.

power eventually consumes itself.
all is one.
we all wait for the end.
die.
the song of life is not a joyful rhythm.
it is but a dirge.

Amazing grace.

Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,
That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost but now am found,
Was blind, but now I see.