sweeping, the MUSe sICk takes me away, with all the weight of tragedy
in tow… because of the loss of human understanding in the separate
realities that bind us all together as one people… there are so many
factors involving themselves in the ascension of human discovery, but
there are always those dark forces that prescribe a different means to
an end… tenaciously, the classical innovators were bound to leap and
experiment with the human conditions that were uniform in their times,
but today’s modern affectations are getting out of hand… so much so that
the oldest undertakings of those lost civilizations become fantasy from
which things misunderstood get too easily lumped into quantifying
categories… the muses call to me, but from underneath the taint of
centuries gone by, hardened into phallic symbols in the fear-based
economy… not everything is so romantic… the pigs’ skin sheds itself to
leave fresh the surface for a new hide… the art of the muses gets lost
sometimes… many hands had put the philosophers’ touch into the sounds,
but few dared to tread on soil worked by foreign minds, without at first
finding it similar to the rest of the known world…
Thanks, khet.
