pulse_of_transgression
#The Pulse of Transgression
Let me infuriate you, not as an exercise in futility, but to make the most difficult point there is regarding life. You are not going to like what I’m about to say, in fact, you’re less likely to hear me at first than you’ll ever admit, but you will, because the anguish of truth demands total and complete submission, which is paramount to love.
You cannot help but abandon your body to the demise of time, the happiest of thieves. You are forever in the dark about what goes on in the minds of others, and sadly, the grand facade that surrounds our little worlds is colored by only a single drop of hope drowning in the infinite abyss of physical oppression from birth to dark matter. We live on the jagged edge between abandon, ignorance, and delusion.
Before you escape into the realm of the Unknown or some silly transcendental solace, stop and check your pulse. Before you reach for your usual trick or positive calculus, where you find your normal bearings, stop and check your pulse. Check it!
This daemon is not you. Your pulse is not yours. In fact, your “self” is not yours. And to add insult to injury, all these delicate lies come at no cost, and depend not on Laws set forth in history. You are what many have come to realize, long before you took your first silly steps, nothing but a Tyrannical Pulse.
A life that lives for one goal and one goal only:
To take in and out another breath, a beating pulse between Now and Then. That’s it, that’s all folks. To make my point clear, let me state in my own particular language what I mean by being inside and outside a tyrannical pulse.
The jagged edge between abandon, ignorance, and delusion is the pulse of transgression.
**trans·gres·sion (trans-gresh’?n, tranz-) ** Pronunciation Key n.
A violation of a law, command, or duty: “The same transgressions should be visited with equal severity on both man and woman” (Elizabeth Cady Stanton). See Synonyms at breach. 2. The exceeding of due bounds or limits. 3. A relative rise in sea level resulting in deposition of marine strata over terrestrial strata.
The third definition is my favorite. It offers the imagination an image of a slug or amphibious creature brought to the shores of consciousness by a miraculous mistake. A monster with the face of grace and the power of the sun.
Every breath we take is a violation of the laws of reality and our duty rests only in a dream, waiting for our definition. Your existence exceeds the bounds of your imagination.
Yet, you keep yourself inside shadows, gingerly stepping from one sidewalk to the next. You stand among ghosts, rather than giants, and dare I say, above the dead. You keep shedding your skin like a tormented soul shaped by a decaying environment when you should be shattering the walls that encroach ever more upon your beautiful skin.
As you become aware of this tyrannical pulse, you’ll become the lover of life’s madness again, and recapture the crime of creation. To ensure that this tragedy is never lost, I dare you to act upon your “self.” I dare you to destroy the image of yourself. I dare you to sabotage what you think you know about this “life.” To make all that is yours no more. To not only stand against your Time, but to transgress the very notion of time and history, for it is your only aim, and it is long over due.
What came before you is worthless, and those who knew this before you are the children, playing fearlessly the game of love. The truths that were paramount before you are but lies, deceptions, and delusions.
In my anguish, I dare you to become the bow and the arrow in one breath. I dare you to shoot yourself please…to live.
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