My Love Proses

Prose 41: The Charter Parade

No art remediates atomic recognition at the expense of other crafted masterpieces left behind another spotlight. Perhaps, one of the most defiant principles that society tend to hold captive include any deep-seated rancor source with immutable reputation that can stand firmer than the creative right of those who parade in changing it.

Counting from one to the negative figures of algebra, I long to live my life without becoming an atrocious prisoner compelled by the constant persuasion of surrendering back to the passion I truly once adored. Past is all in the past. Some records of histories are never meant to be repeated. Art no longer serve as intently purposive as it did to everything else that I do.

More than half of the Asian population in Germany, excluding the foreign ambassadors and annual tourist travellers, confide to the conjectural belief that their land transportational experience is often almost close to the least algebraic figure of any mathematical expression. The prime integer that can basically encapsulate specific value and circumscribe numerical variable to an unreachable extent unless the scope remains as stagnant as the intrinsic purpose of zero.

Far from the nearest possible approach, the determination of quantitative milestone cease to exist once the durable chance for divisibility propagates shorter than the expected length over finite time span. No one can negate the concrete truth that varieties of intangible treasures in our world are uncontrollable and cannot optimally suffice the human knowledge filled with endless hunger for learning, character and wisdom. Perhaps, taken into clear consideration, time and setting is no radical exemption from it.

In comparison to the morphological tenor and linguistic structure of words, thousand of letters are never enough to eloquently articulate long-standing confessions repressed by fear, doubts and regrets as time does not propel backward nor there is an impeding extension to come at the most expected moment of final revelation.

Every little detail of another phrase impels supporting roadmap that language without distinct accent for full-scaled understanding is as redundantly similar as listening to cassette devoid of audible sound. Silence defeats the impact of inseparable connection and it is only through speaking up with well-grounded voice that the intended message can be insinuated and deciphered at once.

All people are given the independence to craft an initial literary prose by treating paper as their central platform and pen as their legal right, fortitude and courage to advertently deploy each carriage made by truth and build the highest tower of defiance against those who tend to silence them. Creation of words matters the most when never taken for granted, instead nurtured with atomic habits under the indomitable shelter of consistency and adhesion where true fruit-bearing actions disprove the otherwise outcome.

In the sphere of assessing both partial and whole, no excuse can claim any word as precisely real and superficial not unless the locomotion of its meaning has been done into the spotlight. As one can apparently recognize, words holds the solely predominant, autocratic and independent power to either obliterate massive barriers of walls from constant peace or navigate the competent-leading breakthrough of long-lasting change to the world.

One must realize that words can dig deeper than the knife once mishandled and it can bear the healing antidote to let others survive by living well for all they needed to hear in life. Words are precious gems that are bound to be said, heard and listened no matter the spectacular meaning depicted on the facade and the finest core of intention to be revealed.