A soft waking to the end is the one thing I think I have done, not the end in the species, but a end in the human. As a humanoid is what now exist in totality, a being of success found in steel and glass. They are not the conjecture of the humanoid is to the ones who are willing to deny the human and the ones who seek not the steel of a god that gives us what we want as long as we bleed, sacrifice time, family and soul. I think of a truth that is not one of the world but one of the being. We have all forgot how to be human, so we call the ones we want to be human, not what we already are.

It is in the times now that we have discovered that technology, steel and concrete is the very base of things to be considered human, dirt trails, crying winds, whispering water. These things have been left behind so the person matters to the crusted timeline of conjecture of production of product when the human soul is the raw material used. We have become a set of beings never to be remembered again as memories are now distilled into digital markers on a screen, a emotionless and stale reflection. Not a endured and loving part of life that remains unforgotten as it is a core of who we are, they no longer exist as they are replaced with the flashing images of swiping to the next “told to be” existential crisis you have to deal with as you are told.

Living in the truth of past, a pre-modern past, when the flesh and bone have been rewarded with tensile means of human being. The flesh is to be what embraces us in the night of the darkest days. Not to have a chemical defiance in pill form, skinless, boneless, beingless way to stay in a world once bone and flesh but now steel and false memories to keep people not happy, but in false content of human desires that are dictated, not felt. When is the last time you have ever truly touched something. Even in the simple touch of a cold pole of structure, warmth only comes from the human form, not from the steel, so we harness the power electrons to manufacture a false human warmth.

We seem to have created a disease of mind and steel, we are to not find comfort in each other, but in the dimming screen of a recorded set of nothing, nothing remembered, nowhere to be remembered. We have not seen the end of humanity, it ended when the steam became more then just boiling water, when metal became a bringer of life and death, concrete that slowly calcifies to show us one thing. Show us the greatest truth of all things, we strive to be remembered in stone and steel, when stone and steel is the most forgettable things in the universe. To be remembered in the parchment of scribbled inks, yet those inks never last longer then the required language to read them. We as a set of beings have become corrupted by memory, to have a life of such magnificence that it is eternal. Yet all that is truly remembered is the blood required for that wealth.

We ravish each other in a being of two backs to allow a continuance of the conveyer of modernity. Sacrifice the being we create in lust of progression leaves the being bloodless and hollowed by the cost of being born, born to a world that sees them before consciousness is burned into the soul, they are and will be forgotten by the stone and steel they make to be remembered.

Darkness and the night is not a horror waiting at your door, it is a truth we destroy with light and falsities. It is the truth we don’t like to be reminded of what we once were, a scared hairless ape who seeks a malformed sense of meaning and remembrance. When really to be remember in eternity, is as easy as just waking to a means of life not to be remembered, but to be forgotten. Then those who have become aware of this truth, will be forced to remember those who became before us. For they are the ones who will live forever in bone and flesh, by the scar they chose not to make, by the cities not build but the dreams of many manifesting into nature the greatest love of all. Just existence, beautiful shameless existence.

Until later,

Much Love,

Your Friendly Ginger From The Woods.