Ulysses

We are the harvesters of destiny, gathering the leeches of existence and the capriciousness of emotionless masks amidst the shores of lucid dreams and nocturnal splendor. I yearn to sing, to dance, to cry out like a madman.

Bring me wine, and I shall whirl the world around the whims of human consciousness. Lead me into the depths of hell's darkness, and I'll illuminate her gates, infusing them with the exuberance of joy, filling the chalice of primal desires. Drinking deeply from life's cup, its bittersweet nectar rejuvenates my senses, enriching the tapestry of my existence. I embrace life, I consume love to its very dregs.

Love, the sacred effusion of existence, binds me in the inability to unlove. I am submerged, intoxicated by the essence of my desires for her. And there, amidst the throng, I see them—men of remarkable vitality and determination, reflections of my own life, incarnations of staggering resilience. I am alive.

I am Nature, she is my masterpiece. You cannot fathom me. Please, do not attempt to decipher my essence, for it will only consume your time and age you, rendering you as weathered and barren as the wilderness. You'll suffocate beneath the weight of overwrought thought, lost amidst life's fleeting spectacles.

Ah, my enigmatic companions, she will walk amidst the monuments of men and the echoes of the departed. Before the grandeur of the heavens succumbs to the gravity of paradoxes, where shadows cease to dance and cold cannot exist, I must confront my destiny and its culmination.