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"Truly, truly, I say to you, before Abraham was, I am." - John 8:58

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Optimistic Skeptic

I'm an optimistic skeptic, on an apocalyptic picnic.
Hectically eclectic, check me, I've already wrecked it.
Nonchalant dominance,
through circumspect resonance.

Free from the status quo, dough ain't all I know.
I grow, to sow
the knowledge of emancipation from desecration and emaciation.

Evolve or dissolve,
and absolve to resolve.

We have to unite, or it's, "goodnight!"
Prioritize intellect, or it's disrespect.

Stay well-read, instead of brain dead.
To have not simply said, is no better than to have hid in bed.

I can feel an empath from a heartbeat away.
I can smell a fascist from a dollar astray.

Celestially elemental, transiently eternal.
Intuitively knowing, logically bestowing.

I'm in the know, like UFOs,
up in the stars, like Tesla with cars.
Matrix bros scoff, "So?!"
Since their scars disbarred them from Mars.

Too abstract, to detract, from.
Too detailed, to get derailed, um,
you're getting impaled
if you think my people need jailed.

You've already been told
that we're not sold,
so telling us to just hold
is really quite old.

If you fear me, you endear me with your subconscious.
If you hate me, admit you wanna date me, I promise:

I'll let you down easy on the bed of nails that you built for yourself.
And if you don't go, you'll drown, until you connect the source of your health.

The source is love force, yet,
no remorse for the fashionable concourse,
if they force us into a con's course,
they're a trojan horse.

I love myself and everyone else,
but when the line's crossed,
the love must become tougher,
than they can comprehend.

When I see the pretense of a friend,
I revel in God's gift to me.
Us humans call it empathy,
and when they try, I see:

The parasitism of their every euphemism.
The worship of death they call a sacred vision.
The zero-sum game, I set aflame.
The hero's journey: clearly not their game.

To conjugate bliss, please
eradicate dis-ease.

The logic is there,
those who don't care
to share,
can just give up their own air.

My purpose can't be impersonated.
Eternal liberation drive: unsatiated.

Look all around,
crooks abound.
Look deep inside,
Eternal Spirit: my muse, my bride.

Landscape; landslide,
skyscape; skyslide.
Some think that I hide,
but, to the material world, I died.
You see, Eternal Truth can't be decried.

What was I reborn into?
Well… Try me.