Come To; One must Come To My dearest Reader.

A Worldly Leisure To Seduce Pain — Goodness And Wellness — Serial №2

To Acknowledge and Counteract the grizzled face of Pain in this World.

After long last, I bring to you another piece of enigmatic tampering on the humane heart and sight by this sudden arrival of such a piece —

Was the fancying strong to seduce and commence yourself here? You who seek to rid yourself of the name of pain, yet never outright acquaint yourself to it; To seduce it outright or mitigate it for a time to level yourself out In the duly pronounced bounce of shallow tides and breaching sunlight, Making all nudity covered much by cloth, vain — Was that your pitching pursuit?

Closing all things away from the wider worlds, and clock yourself thereby spare and spring to entrance yourself to a Worldly Leisure, to reduce shock and belly awe.

For this sudden serial number, I decided out of the thickets to bring you along to this quarter of Worldly Leisure, as a seduction to true fulfillment in and out of pain, as it so likes to akin itself to you, and your life. By taking the task and mapping out a world that could be the enticement to face that pain, here is it to you now, a library of Seduction to Pain; further and since had and concurrent as we parlay.

Now, imagine yourself courting the fanciable ideas that contrive this world to be; this idea fashioning before you as we so go.

Imagine yourself walking down a swiftly traversed hallway of quartz to bedazzle, cleanly cut and laid wooden flooring of any type of your imaging, arriving at a quaint yet open space with the atmosphere to becalm you gently, by the reveal of its plain. Hexagon in design is the floorplan [And my! I have never felt so infused by flooring before!] with five doorways leading off to where curiosity is dragging you to, by frock and by the clock.

So, as the humane form can only be in one place at once, regardless of one’s multiplying reduce of reasoning — and, to be fair, of presence, you decide to hobble down one path, once is the only path I shall describe to you today; brevity and sanity, Oh, I wish Tolstoy would’ve listened!

Once the legs are in motion, few can say when they will stop; you quiver with a sudden gleam of the decorations of this hall, a hall that has walls erect to the sky, seemingly made out of fine marble, quartz with a liner of brass tinting its ferment every so often when you look. The floor shoots out beneath you in a crazed, pyramid-like mosaic, beckoning you down and on and on down this path, slowly coming to a close, as the ceiling shrugs down to a doorway, about your height. [Oh! What is it to be — what could it be!]

Through the doorway you go, and revealing itself quite softly, is a corridor of wooden antiquity, statues hugging the space with their naked thighs, and endowment quashed by the sakes of taste! A faint pulsing light is all the company you keep that is animating — Leading you forth as you stroll between the statues of sexiness and of the humane figure.

Interrupting this pleasure council you arrive finally at the last room of the path, a room stacked as high as the Empire State Building, though furnished in a tidier outfit than that wrought steel and concrete — Oh sigh, Richard Rogers! — for what is commenced and outfitting this cylindrical hall that seems to fancy itself a communion with some Almighty by the reaching of sheer height alone, is Books; stacks and stacks of Books, loaded into bulking shelves — I know!; The eyes dazzle and reflect madly as they try to acquire all that is in seeable distance. But a queer urging comes rumbling in your belly, a seeded pit of fear, for the sheer vastness contained within, for this sole venturer has yet to relinquish their fear to the unbeknownst and the totality of the expansive plains that links all ideas in this Canon or Continuum.

Why this? — Why me to this, you may so decry? Why books? Why all this arcane and yet omnipresent knowledge; peeping over the ridges of their dustless shelves to have their eyes at ye! Isn’t it for some, the prime of fear — like the currency that builds, isn’t also knowledge the root of all Evil?

And my reply to that is, My! Aren’t you overly simplifying things, almost to cherish stupidity; Ideas — all things that are, are to be perceived by us, once discovered are owned by Ideas; Words merely being the often meek representatives of those Ideas — and all things aren’t just solely, undivided items but rather an affinity of a multitude of things in of themselves.

A stone isn’t purely a stone, in terms of elements, their usage, their negative billing to the individual, and so on it rolls; through useless ones, and more immediate ones I shall vouch.

So how can this grabbing and throwing vastness console the already fearful? And mayhap to be that for some, they are inconsolable to it, and sadly I have to close these doors upon them, for such a doctoring cannot be contained if the person isn’t receptive to it, even in a quart of themselves, I cannot allow them back.

But there is an old saying of mine, and of many others that follow a similar vain of living, and that is The Dignity Of Knowledge; The Dignity that knowing brings to one’s situation, that has and has been and will continue to occur to be. By the Dignity of Melancholy, of the potential of Evil, Apathy, and all these facets that are Self-knowledge; to what we throw under the prevailing facade and hope it all doesn’t fall apart on us, unexpectedly someday —

Unpleasant as it can be — my expectations of this life, of these lives were never without the expectation of loathsome toiling — Pain is one thing, but to transform that Passion of life and of the pains and harmful throes that are dealt, like the Black Gambler at the Southern Green Table, or the ostracized Artist that is dared to be hung or stoned to death, and turn those meager chances, be like the afford Creator and turn Ripe from ruin, we have the potential to surprise ourselves;

To afford ourselves again the happenstance that might relieve us and bring a goodly living; One can sustain so much if there is a purpose behind it, like the Self-inflicting harm a Passionate of Christ may do in Antiquity or how a Mother bears the storm of siring of an unruly Child, they do so by Sense of Purpose.

I’m not asking you to conjure absurdity out of nothingness, but using what you can bear and ingest from around, by taking the superfluous thoughts into action by the actuality, may you have the chance to be; to be fulfilled — happiness and cherishable ones and gold may adorn you.

You give yourself that chance, and at some certain points, that may be the best one can do, in any given circumstance. Getting by, as we all manage to do, until we don’t, but with this animation and attitude, you may have the happenstance to be again, and to be living, even dare to be thriving! So hey kid, give it your all if the opportunity ever debuts before you, First Impressions are only had once, you only meet that Person once, and you only ever truly Experience things once, so give it all you can, by the goodly forces invested within me, I hope it so for ye.

Oh, I’m spelling — smelling — sensing Opportunity in the airs!

So by these Over the Top Interiors you may glean my idea behind doing so by the last part, coming all together, I hope with some brilliance on both of our behalf.

Taking our residence away, soaking ourselves in the surroundings, whether that be physical or metaphysical, and being the better for it.

But I’m breaking a fervent rule of mine and that is releasing first drafts; I had the swinging mood for it as of now, for such shady business. But here we are, and here you are.

So What Are You Going To Do?

Ta-ta Now, Till Next Which Won’t Be As Late!

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