"Craving pure perfection is a common goal amongst life in all forms. Whether it be through the influence of religion or internal motivation. The path to perfection is transparent. There is no true sense of perfection. Within each soul there is a divine purpose and that purpose is what creates what we call the world. Now the basic understanding of perfection is misjudged, cliches ring through the world stating all perfection is in oneself. While this statements is overrung, nonetheless the foundation is the simple truth"-
S.P.G

Dumbfounded Wisdom of a Russian Pioneer

Dumbfounded Wisdom of a Russian Pioneer

He came to a toxic city full of toxicity by way of the railroads to seek hearth, or further exploration of a crumbling country whose citizens defy the word empire. Up high in towers of metal sat greedy, self-proclaimed gods so fearful for the loss of their fortune they did not sit on golden thrones. The streets were polished in poison for the people to tread, or suffer in the winter's merciless chill, homeless and afraid. Where was home besides where ever they covered their blankets and body warmth, should one be so lucky to have a companion though they were many, companionship was buried by mistrust and never enough provisions to go around. 

Clad in dirt of the wild and coal from the trains, a man as if from the forests of the mountains never knowing of modern society, he met some people he would come to call them friends. With him were items and knowledge he would come to share some with one, and some with others; the gladden possession of an earthen herb, speech bearing stories and humor, a joyous vibe to spread to all around him, and ancient knowledge from the past of the true gods older than our world. Only one would be so humble to hear these words and further his journey to know more about life, but in this aspect, his beliefs will grow and mold his sense of directions and morality. No more will he see only the common belief that has so happened to of survived the ages and became a beacon for the people to follow because they knew, nor sought, any other way themselves, lacking the true ability of progression. 

The Russian man and the disciple of further beings, heightened by the earthen herb, sat and traded words with each other. The Russian asked him, "When were you born?" and with a reply, the boy said, "December." He was told that the stars marked him under the element of Earth. He expressed the four elements of the world: fire, water, earth, and air. Each one bore the traits of a human being, though not ever exact but one could be read and learned about in a matter of a moment by their birth. What path life has taken them, corrupted or by their constellation, is what's determined. 

All that was said that night is to be described further on:
The river, oceans, and lakes cover our world, belonging to water. What life breathes, the breeze on blue skies and through our faces, that is air. The lightning that strikes the world produces fire, the lava from volcanoes, all is the element of fire. The ground we walk on, the dirt that brings our plants, crops, and trees to fruition, the rocks and stone that forms our world is earth. There is one place where all four of these elements are strongest, and that is a mountain. Where the rain first touches, and pours down into springs and streams, lightning strikes truest and first, burning the forests from the top and downward, where the wind is strongest, blowing hard, and then the mountain itself is a monument of the earth itself. Where all four are strong come together to these thrones of the world, and that is what makes earth the strongest element, the very foundation of our home. 

What is beyond our understanding, between such spiritual knowledge and the existence of flesh and blood gods beyond in the stars, our Creators, one cannot, at this time, bring a correlation. But when something is the truth and brings our eyes further to understanding life and our purpose, who can deny it but take what they've learned with them and one day may find that connection or come face to face with those who breathed life into our lungs with a kiss.

Everything the boy learned, leaving his home and searching for something greater, to know more than only a life within one house than to be thrown into adulthood, it only seemed faulty and a doom to fail. Now he had a better understanding of what he wanted to do, he had what he had gathered, now to express it and accumulate it to a way of living, he was to hopefully write it out someday. For the knowledge of a human being is only temporary for when their time in life will come, but to record all he knew, knowledge can carry on to other who would read what he has gathered. And further wisdom will come to him along the way.

-Britt Dunaway

A Game of Chess

A Game of Chess

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