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An Ophidian Apocalypse
An Ophidian Apocalypse
An Ophidian Apocalypse
Ebook178 pages1 hour

An Ophidian Apocalypse

By 9LUV

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About this ebook

An Ophidian Apocalypse drips its psychedelic experience immersed in prose and verse. Inspired by classics like Paradise Lost and Shakespear's extensive work, it's delivery is closer to our modern rap than what was thought fancy in Miltons day. Designed like an album with an intro, the tracks as the chapters and the outro to finish the experience. An Ophidian Apocalypse dives deep into the light and a chance to see the other side of division.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherbuddhaLAB
Release dateDec 21, 2023
ISBN9798223216728
An Ophidian Apocalypse
Author

9LUV

9LUV is best left a mystery. Blessings.

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    An Ophidian Apocalypse - 9LUV

    An Idea Lit the EArth

    His eyes blinked wearily as the sun peered through the window, gently and persistent. Reaching out with her warm splendor on his skin, she pulled him out quietly from that moment to the next. His chest rose and fell like the tides of the ocean washing up on pebbled shores. Heart beating through the birdcage as his eyes slowly averted from the white ceiling to the jar on the nightstand. He wiped his face with his left hand and slowly sat up with his right in one movement.

    Picking up the jar, he released the airtight seal of the welcoming aroma to select the closest nug from the top. He ground it and dumped it on a book he had left on the windowsill the previous night. Taking his time packing the glass piece, he paused and turned his head to the right. On a branch by the window, a bright red cardinal ruffled his feathers in her warmth, with the brisk morning, as he looked about his day ahead. Hopping either which way on the branch, undecided on what to do next.

    The young man turned away and stared for a while at the floor thinking. He exhaled, struck the match on the side of the cinder box, lit the bowl, and cleared the hit. Slowly, the smoke rolled out, his eyes watered red as the stillness of the room came to life with each dust particle dancing about in the sunlit space. He thought of his feathered friend looking back at the branch, but the cardinal had flown to live his day out.

    Placing the bong by the nightstand, he lay back down and half closed his eyes, observing the flashing scenes in sequential order of the realm he had left. It had been an intense dream, beautifully vivid, lucid, and colorful: A taste of a life long forgotten, a familiar surprise to his pallet. Yet it was a dream they would say, if he ever spoke of it, and separate from reality.

    One shouldn't lose so much energy over something like that. Forget it, it's nothing, move on!

    However, the feelings conveyed contradicting emotions too difficult to pass by as nothing. This experience contained the weight of the unexplored depths in one's own soul. Unfathomably too close to see clearly, it was the missing piece required for the tapestry to be completed.

    He pondered.

    ~Why does it have to be a separate notion, the dream experience from waking reality? For me, it's one in the same, but the lifelong social constraints of what is right or wrong conflicts internally with my instinct and leads me astray. It is as if my gut were telling me to walk a certain path that demands a unique courage, but the ego holds me doubtful in a whirlwind. Stuck.

    Everything blurs together. Everyone's mindless opinion of what is, how it should be, and how it has been, fuse into a clear picture illustrating 95% of the population is insane. Insane in the context of repeating the act that yields nothing new but the same negative result. A vicious cycle of helplessness from the majority of beings, that have so much potential and seem not to get it. They have chosen to assimilate out of fear or something, whether conscious or unconscious, to the impractical genius of this self-destructive system. A fear that stems from an insidious lie implanted in the most opportune moment of weakness since the inception of our lost story. A fear that is not our own. A half lie at that, which led us to fully believe we were something we were not, during a time of complete global vulnerability. Fundamentally forcing us to live a life full of treacherous ups and downs just to reach what they said was our ultimate goal. Heaven! The eternal life not far from our seemingly distant future, full of bliss and missing the agonizing pain this sinful life requires with its numbing pleasures! A concept so delusional in its premise, it has defied the laws of nature and turned it on its head. What humanity has become under this spell is a heartbreak written in blood, with the torment of incalculable souls reincarnating through the meat grinder, over and over without end.

    So fuck it! Along with their injected fear as I collectively silence and let go the constructs of their psychosis from my mind. There is no Heaven unless created and no Hell unless one eases their own destructive torment. My entire gut has wrenched itself every time I've caved into their conditioned uncertainty, only to beat myself afterward down a bottle for not listening to my inner voice. Furthering accomplishing their tactical manipulations, we’re greeting the subtle blind door of escapism. These dreams here are thus important. Too important! More than anyone will ever imagine, unless they share a similar perspective as I. In resonance, nothing else matters, especially after last night.~

    Or so he thought.

    He lingers with the last words escaping his lips to startle himself in amazement to the realization unearthed from his mental monologue. Lying there, a smile forms on his face encountering the surprising fortune of finding the path he'd been searching for in order to enlighten the confusion he'd been in. The opportune instant one cannot let slip away because its consequence outlines the outcome of the personal story. Hypothetically, if ignored his quest would be unresolved and the story would stay within the shallow pools of the rocky seashore, instead of delving deep into the unexplored, complexities of the ocean.

    ~And let's say I did stay wading in the shallows of the water, sooner or later, in a near or distant future, I would eventually be confronted by the wolves stirring restlessly within the most profound aspect of my being! Frantically, they would look for a way to free themselves from the chains of societies imposition keeping them captive, dreaming of the sun's warmth on their face. An inherent nature of being, to discover ones impending potential in the human occurrence all of us inhabit, and its need for experience in a harmonious manner. However, these dormant wolves within us all have been condemned to taboo by ‘holy’ lore. They've demonized them in present texts to be omitted from what is truth because a threat they have been, and a threat they remain to the few in control. Simply put, on that hypothetical day, the union of the conscience and ego, in confrontation between the powers that be, would give themselves the opportunity of liberty, but would also help everyone in Plato's cave walk out to the brilliance of life. With no TIME, we would cultivate the necessary courage in venturing out to see the rest of the delusion we've been led to believe. Only then will the flowers bloom by this action, into the tree of life within us all and the highest level of potential has been met, by our hidden call. ~

    Swiftly, his thoughts precede him to unfamiliar, but reminiscent territories. He turns to the nightstand. Reaches down, and picks up a beautiful mahogany box from under it, opens it up and pulls a ziplock bag full of pre-rolled cones. Unzipping the bag, he takes out three, slides two behind his ears, and leaves the third hanging loosely from his lips. He then pulls the drawer from the nightstand and picks out an old tape recorder he had set up six months prior; with faith something would fall out of the sky to land on his lap. He presses the record and play buttons simultaneously, exhales, lights the cone, inhales, and allows the smoke to roll out slowly after holding it in for a few seconds. He then lifts his sight to the vaulted ceiling, and speaks with the haze floating lightly around him.

    - For the most part, life has felt like an empty shell. Sporadically littered with fulfilling moments of luv and happiness, but after those lapses it would regress to its usual in-depth analytical state of mind. Somber, always asking why, at the mechanical workings of reality, to disappoint me in expectation, I had, for myself, and on ‘the adults’ with their lacking ability to answer the toughest questions. Leaving me to figure out what the fuck was going on, alone burning zigzag joints, while walking through the woods, until I reached the rocky drop. I then would sit on the ledge overlooking the scenic view to contemplate even further. There with the wind and late afternoon, the setting sun would become an epic movie ending, for the day I had lived and won. The present being my only solace in the immensity of this shit show, as the forgiving smoke of the herb made it possible to live in it.

    I've sensed that when adults, confronted by their children or youth, an enormous preconditioned fear keeps rising from their feet. That fear blankets our bleak situation or makes it worse. Keeping in mind, ignorance has a way of responding differently according to the individual. A cyclone at hand, it's not their fault! What should we expect from a large portion of the population that's been systematically ravaged by mass social conditioning to act a certain way with their nature? In a set of characteristics, which resembles more a box than a circle, and limits the limitless from seeing the infinite possibilities of what could be. They argue blindly with condescending views, which aren't their own, but the planted ideas of the few in control. Suppressing all youth from their feelings that rise when something's not right, to a box in a square they will learn to call LOVE. This holds TRU for so many, but not TRU for the rest as the

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