Conspiracy by Mohammad Al-Khawashki

Posted on May 29, 2012 by

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In a thousand year’s time none of us will have mattered. And why would we? It isn’t as though we are more than fancy cutlets of clay mimicking a perfect ideal that we’d been lured into making up by our own longing for a shot at divinity. A divinity we’ll never live to realize, but only to wistfully acknowledge its picturesque existence within our collective mind as it is either left as is to stagnate, or with imagination harnessed, taken to bloom; a divinity that would either way cease to be the moment we do. We ourselves reproduce just to satisfy the need to further assert our existence itself, as if we’d be sticking it to death and letting it know that we’re here to stay through our seed, but death isn’t paying much attention to that of course; it’s too busy killing us off.

 

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When God set the draft for “human” his only reference was himself, that isn’t to say that we are drawn in the image of god, but contrarily, in the exact opposite of it. We were made to be the perpetually confused and self-questioning things that we are, and God, his angels and devils are in on it; observing us as we take sides with either or none of them, and behave as we were programmed to, while sighing with amusement. We’re vessels animated with life that’s only been given to be taken and then recycled in a bid to see how long it will be before we break beyond ever mending, and that’s when it’ll all be over.

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Posted in: Conspiracy