Illusionists

Illusionists, we are all illusionists, for ourselves, for each other, for the fictional divine and authority.

Human, obeys very first the law of nature.
The ones who make love have their genes passed on, the ones who don't don't. So in the end most of us make love. It's natural selection.

Does nature tell you what is right, what is wrong? No. Right or wrong are only properties found in society, not in nature. By society I mean any group of people that's living together in a close ecology.
By nature, there are only want, desire, hunger, pain.
Society, a bound, a group, a tribe created common spirit, each tribe has its own characteristics formed by its own evolvement, later being called culture.
These societies mandate sacrifice from members, sacrifice of freedom, individuality.

Together, men created law, human right, ideology, religion, hope. All above are images painted on human brain, not real.

One kills another, the former one shall be punished in the tribe, society, nation, but who granted the tribe, society, nation to punish this man? A common belief of justice, a imaginary shield attempting to protect everybody from getting hurt or hurting each other. Justice is not divine, even divine is not divine, not to mention man-made rules. Justice, as well as human rights, as a standardized basic justice requirement, are all man-made illusion, we made these, the society made these, while we, by nature, don't necessarily rely our lives on this.

What purpose do these fabricated ideas serve? Merely serve as a means to maintain order and protect the society, the most hollow entity itself.

We live like a bee in a nest, among tens of thousands of other bees, yet we felt as if we were unique. No, we are just one of the little bees, serving the grand purpose of the nest, the non-life entity, to reproduce, to spread, to pass on and evolve into something more efficient that travels through space and time.

Universe, being its own existence and purpose, need no explanation, for all attempts only would fall into false.

Life As A Fucking Joke

is a poem
shall be long
infused with visual
and unforgettable sound

you come back
to taste the blood
from your own vein
it rushes to your head

Life has been a joke
it's not a theater play
but a real laughable tragedy
because of the tears
are so worthless and funny

tears down your cheeks
they burn two deep channels
the channels carry the keys
smell the hand gestures of the rude man
his hair radiates anger and impatience
with a single swing
dignity thrown away