To Make No Amends

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Arrigo_Lupori
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To Make No Amends

Post by Arrigo_Lupori »

Before you read the story, please, do not reuse, copy and paste or make any improper use of my writing. This is an original work that has officially been posted on my personal blog and it is intellectual property, so please, again, do not reuse this in any circumstance. I'm posting it here because I am not allowed to link to my own blog and I am looking for tips and tricks, but it does not allow for you to steal other people's work. Thank you for your cooperation.
Hey everyone, I've just posted a new piece on my personal blog and I would like to share it with you guys as well, since you're all so nice and insightful. This is a long piece, it's about 1,500 words and I've written it today with a great deal of animosity.

I usually dedicate a day's worth of work to these pieces, both because of the writing and because of the online formatting. I usually get inspired to write when I am out and about, when I pick up my trusty notebook and start jotting down ideas.

This piece is about frustration and feeling as if we were held back by something or someone, without quite being able to identify the source of this painful ache. The writing represents in many ways traits of my point of view, where I try to detach from personal bias and instead talk about things in a wider perspective.

If you'll have the chance to read the whole thing, I hope that you will enjoy it and that you will hopefully have some tips and tricks for me as I am making my first steps in the world of authoring.

See you all in the forums! :tiphat:

We’ll always be somewhere we don’t want to be in. A sensation for which we never made any amends.

Sure, it’s frustrating, but what can we do?

It’s only a way for our system to say that not all of what resembles a treasure is to be looked at with enveloping fervour.

Excitement is one side of the equation, while envy completes the rest of the problem.

The two spread apart without ever touching but in some way or another must they come to assemble in something for which one looks for solutions.

How many ways are there to tell stories that resonate throughout the ages?

How many possible subjects could one master before the lack of assistance towards his self disposition is somehow filled in by sprouts of sheer personal wisdom?

Does anyone know if our ambition to live for the reachable is ever at stake of reaching no pinnacle?

We’re always swinging from liana to liana, holding a grip on our own destiny, but what about when we stand by the ocean, looking ahead without any notion of how the world works or where we may lay our lasting devotion?

The shore is no place for a man to discover the way towards which he shall make a breach.

False are the accusations our mind brings to the surface.

If only we could provide for an answer.

A myth that resembles that of a god whose only real purpose is to prove everyone wrong.

Where is it that we lie the foundations to all of what’s said to be influenced by nature?

Never in history has anyone thought of how forcefully arrogant our lives have become.

We strive for the better without ever looking at what all of those that resist the tide at its peak have tried to acknowledge over several years.

At last shall we recover from yearn of power and spur into our lives a sensical desire to reach for the stars and not for what our world is prone to become.

Standing ovation for people whose pride has bought into our deepest ambition to die.

Knowledge is something that nobody serves on a silver plate, yet hasty are those that look for it all, without first unearthing what’s not to be thought of.

Because of our brothers we love one another, but as we encounter the father of all, we tremble in fear, drenching in pain that only a few can likely sustain.

A powerful enemy to direct our thought to: we give him the honour to know that what we achieve is resting at ease on top of his shoulders, where there’s no amount of weighty discovery that shall ever bring his imposing stature to creek and obey the laws whose nature is linked to the very same ground he stands over.

Our hearts will acknowledge the worst in a moment where only the proven have made it so far as to know that no man may ever repay the debt he has gathered while walking his way.

We direct our attention towards senseless renditions of what’s to come next, but is there a way for us to realise how hardly we might ever abstain from a reality whose backbone is composed of senseless abstractions and unworthy assumptions?

How could we ever reach for the sky if we weren’t even able to fly, sensing a lack in opportunity for which we provide with labour and energy, which all goes into a cauldron of endless ambiguity.

False are the stories that we have been told.

Hard is the way with which we shall learn.

Long is the path for those who are imprisoned.

No other sensation could ever elongate the many inhibitions we all anchor onto.

Love is a way for us to retain what might well explode into ample disdain.

A few are to take this awful sensation and make of it their biggest ambition.

When one is enabled to look for a trace, where no man has any ambivalent answer, then we shall retain the ample desire to avoid all of what may result in disaster.

If this may result in melancholic behaviour, then so must it be that life’s not the answer to all of what we believe to be astral.

The galaxies whir right into place, when a few chosen rules neglect their own say in how the universe may ever react to its own array of unfathomable laws, the power of which is kept in a bucket that may be reversed to show that, life foliage, the elements within shall dawn upon us in a wavy motion of unpredictable change, for we have no business presenting our thought to all of what falls from the sky or above.

Kneeling we bring our hands together and we raise them to show that we’ve understood that there’s no way for us to lay the foundations for timeless achievement and human disposure.

We’re bound to fall on top of spikes whose venomous tips are spreading the word of what’s to be seen as realisation of nothing to look for, if not for depression and hasty disclosure.

We might even cry to look for an answer to all of what showed us heinous retention in bringing our souls to forceful languish, for which we pray and smother the odds of ever achieving the dream of the gods.

No one on earth is able to tell how long has it been that we’ve had to wait for some of these issues to come out alive of the very same cauldron we all stir, in a circular motion, to force a new light into our brains, whose shocked reaction shall only be felt by those who are carrying more than a wound carved into flesh, which shows that their looming is only a short-lived plead to the gods, before their own skin would melt and then rot.

How can we estimate the damage inflicted to some of the people whose only ambition was to live for the dream they had envisioned?

Part of the answer lies in the way we make amends to the astral belief that not all what’s known is indeed even halfway part of the realm in which we all bring forward the essence of what a human may strive for.

The rest of the problem lies in the notion that all disposition is only a belief, for which what we all know may likely just be, a castle of glass inside of the furnace, whose fiery will prevents the destruction of what we all seem to give so much purpose to.

A simple rule applies to everything that we had ever thought we knew: life is simple in its nature, yet its reach is abysmal.

Shall we close our eyes when facing fear, or shall we shine new light onto its appeal?

Fearful is the one who doesn’t know how to react when faced with the dilemma of having to choose between what’s real and what’s imaginary.

Safe is the one whose mind has been traveling at high rates of speed across the cosmos, where darkness is part of the very same process with which we all want to release our sorrow.

They are the ones who know how to drown, without even gasping for air to be found.

They are the ones who would never resent, for only the enemy is prone to regret extinguishing fires whose root cause was never that of acknowledging the existence of heaven.

All of those that are to be seen forcing their light onto new beings, are the ones who most likely have feared the anger of creatures who are well beyond the scope of their essence, bringing to knees all of the humans that embrace their word as if it was golden.

We shall brace ourselves, for all that we know is how little of a role we play in the outcome of our own disposition.

We shall make of it all a relentless search in trying to bring our story forward.

If we may ever fail to do such a thing, it is with great regret that we'll face our death.

However rewarding our path may well be, there’s no reason to exist if all that we do is search for eternity.

Finite is the state in which we all reach the entrance of where we don’t want to be.

Life is a game, but the rules aren’t written.

We shall anger the gods and see that instructions were never provided and so must we act in one way or another.

What is then right? What proves to be wrong?

If we think of the consequence we might as well burn.
"The abstract sensation of living a lifestyle that hasn't been fully understood."
- The epitome of taste in living disgrace.
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Samy Lax
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Post by Samy Lax »

Wow...That's very intense and relatable. Loved this piece! Look forward to reading more.
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Arrigo_Lupori
Posts: 203
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Post by Arrigo_Lupori »

Samy Lax wrote: 23 Feb 2018, 01:42 Wow...That's very intense and relatable. Loved this piece! Look forward to reading more.
Thank you for your kind words!
"The abstract sensation of living a lifestyle that hasn't been fully understood."
- The epitome of taste in living disgrace.
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