For what are we here for if not for love, and not for war?

And for what do we live, if we do not live for ourselves anymore?


What do I believe when I become the acosmist, the thing I used to fear?

That the world will never end, the world was never here.


Where becoming the state of nothing becomes the only thing to behold

No state of mind nor matter, but a hoax, a prophesy foretold.

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