& all th threads are in my head tangled in that knot where th fixed point is imagined to be
where th center is dreamed to be
where th origin will be 

We can stop storing it all in the house.

Posted via LiveJournal app for iPhone.

"The perfection of an endeavor destroys it." - Lasker

Those who replace knowledge and understanding with their own notions and judgments mistake the son of battle to be an arrogant, self-centered beast. They ridicule perfection of any endeavor out of ignorance and a spirit of rejection. They don't know of love's acceptance: it is the perfect that accepts and truly loves the imperfect; it is the imperfect that rejects and despises the perfect. And what they completely overlook is the truth of the destruction in the endeavor's perfection, so in so doing fail to comprehend the perfect and the macheide; then they only mock, when they would do better to retire to their own search rather than think to judge another's.

Anything more said here is not for them. They can make up their misconceptions well enough on their own, ironically displaying the flip side of Lasker's ideal by showing how destructive one can be by taking such pride in imperfection as to show them to be fools.

Macheide is dead. Like the phoenix, there again arises the son of battle. The only one who will know what that means will fly high above any destructive fire, free of the spirit of lies and rejection, into a truly perfect moment that will die again to live again.

Posted via LiveJournal app for iPhone.