The yeastless reality has the flavour of stale vinegar..though it does look like a good wine at times.
The prelude has to be some kind of a bombast and thick to hide the ugliness of life itself. The sublimation does not seal the broken glasses or silence the harsh words said. Language has this innate quality of liberation, setting something free on the world and hoping that some empathy somewhere would bring a healing. The "word" is begining of the form, of resolving, classification. It is the language that lets us classify reality into neat ideas, coherence gives some sense of direction. The direction gives meaning in this meaningless world....
The decadence of forms cannot really give way to healing of scars of formless misery. That yeastless reality has to be fermented long...perhaps on the banks of yamuna..whilst listening to the river...A fine day will bring the nectar..and I shall rest...
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