The Weight of Meaningless Ponder

The Weight of Meaningless Ponder : In the Face of Impossible Time: With No Sense of Connection to Anything

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Most distinguishing of all mans' inherent characteristics is his ability to recognize all that exists as a collective unit of space and energy; whose relationship and exchange is known as reality.Reality, as a place, surrounds us all. In every direction it is infinite: engulfing everything matter and space: and creating the motions of time.Every able mind is aware of reality. No difference in religion, creed, or country expels its existence from shared understanding.Reality, is a mental concept. An imagination that is built around perceived understanding of the mechanics and dynamics of known and unknown existence. But, it is flawed. It cannot, encompass the full range of reality's actual substance and makeup.We assume an idea. And cannot guarantee our understanding. Making reality, a matter of personal acceptance. And declaring that each and everyone of us, live in our own perception of reality: with no two persons understandings being identical, or certain.Alone, we reside in reality. Cut off, and isolated. We cannot know it. Observation doesn't take the place for fact.Reality towers with imposing riddle and eternal allure. That interrogates our deep. Invokes our awe. And leaves us (intellectually and articulately, ) speechless. But bold with wonder and astonishment...The subject of criticism and praise from people of every nation and ethnic background.Truth seeking, is a mental war on reality; with a lot of walking, arguing, and mud wrestling. And it happens to every person that takes on this war, that they find themselves face to face with an unknown, they lack the power to gauge, engage, or measure in way whatsoever. It's like a person who has set out to walk across the greatest desert in the world. They have a strategy. A plan. All the essentials they can carry. But the way is tedious. With hardship and challenge always holding a conversation with each other, with the persevering trekker as their interpreter. The limits of endurance are pressed to breaking. Will and surrender are fought with strength that doesn't exist. It becomes a contest of no longer existing: just to spite the very romanticism of not existing. The truth seeker, digs in. Running on fumes. They push through. Having turned into something more than will or machine. Or even spite of self. Only to find themselves staring face to face with the deepest blue ocean in all the world. Fate, laughs at them. Insanity breaks into their mind: the greatest asset and instinct of survival. As the salt in the water, forbids them from drinking it. And now everything attacks reason: The desert, the sun, the ocean, the air and even their own beaten to pulp soul.It's that single point, where everything stops. And time and reality suddenly conspire against you. Ridiculing you with an impossibility, that doubles as fact. And you have to accept it. Everything around us is mechanical. [And] We're dying. Every self to more

Product details

  • Paperback | 70 pages
  • 152.4 x 228.6 x 4.06mm | 158.76g
  • Createspace
  • United States
  • English
  • black & white illustrations
  • 1514163543
  • 9781514163542

About Jeremiah Dillon

Jeremiah Dillon, is a writer, who writes about the things he feels or fears or even loves. He's touched by a gripping connection to his inner most senses. And articulates these swelled storms with graphic expressions: that are able to pierce soul and conscience alike. He's battled depression all his life. Even grappled with suicide on more than one occasion. And faced the questions of reality, God, and pointlessness: equally unforgiving. The state of anyone's mind is arguable. And that is certainly true of this author. But he stands firm in his beliefs. And presents confident support for his views. And would say, "A man can be be proven wrong, always. But God, is never less than correct. And never less than indestructible." He believes in a living (unanimous, ) God. A Holy (begotten, ) Christ. In the "Spirit of Christ" rather than Christianity. And in the "Spirit of humanity," rather than the individual or the (sweeping) spirit of vanity. His written works are inspired by great reverent impressions; horrible (lowly, ) anxieties; and a gruesome detest of all that strikes the soul with chilling testimony of inhuman more