In the name of the unknown, I make up the known
In the name of the known, I make up the well known
IN the name of the well known, I soak in the throne

And to this throne, I am born
I am born to warn of my throne and of the known that made me well known
As a slave to the well known I drown in the throne of the known unknown

I search for the unknown through the known, from the known
Not knowing the known, not knowing the nature of the unknown, I make up an unknown that is very well known

For to know this unknown, I need to know the known
In knowing the known, I make the known, known, i now see the known as known including the known unknown

But a mind that is bored of the already known, ignores the known and goes after the unknown, an known unknown, a magical unknown it comfortably dwells in

And Within this known unknown, the unknown become another known, becomes another familiar known, a comfortable known
so thus, the idea of the unknown through the known is born to provide me the comfort and magic of the known unknown
Is this really unknown? Does the unknown really have comfort & magic in it?

In this perpetual search for the unknown through the known, my mind becomes a perpetual loop looking for comfort to feel love, to feel the security of the terms and conditions of love

And When I get bored of chasing, searching, researching,
When all methods are done, when all paths are walked, when all that I have known are known, really, really known for what they truly are to my own mind, my mind (thought) falls unto itself
It may no longer seek the comfort of its own knowledge of the past, knowledge of the known and the knowledge/memory of the known unknown

For to see something different, I have to let go that which is familiar
or else, everything I see, is from the filter, through the filter of that which is familiar

May be here, may be now, my mind may come across the now, the known unknown, and the unknown unknown to the unknown unknown
May be …





I see my Identity is very important to me and I myself always tried to have an identity assigned to me
I wonder if Identity is the memory of an entity as an actuality
I ask myself why do I need an Identity for myself
And my answer to myself will be, to be of value, to be valued, to be of someone, something

I wonder about value, what is value, what is being valued? Is it the other I have to be value to, valued of
If my value exist to me in reference to the other, then I am must be living in the other
Then I say, no it is not the value to the other or value in reference to the other but it is being value to myself

Many times, I deny understanding myself, as if a self is only a hallucination
I go on describing myself as the light, the bright and the knight
The very thought of any other word, I deny it, I run away from it and I dismiss it

How am I to know if I cannot accept that which I am as I am, acknowledge that which I think I am
how am I to know myself when I only strive to fit in the container of light, bright and knight?

So I give up and say, oh its just life, I have to have some dark and some light
In this hallucination, I swing between the light and the dark, not knowing neither but always referencing each other for another

Being stuck in such state of mind, how will I ever get to know me, the me with no memory of me in reference to another.

So maybe Without getting offended to myself and denying myself of the question that arises, I have to examine my own mind, my own actions to understand the nature my identity and the entity I am, the very my I refer to as my or I am

And with no judgment of right or wrong, I ask myself, what is being of value to oneself, taking care of oneself?
Most importantly I have to ask myself who is this self that is taking care of oneself/myself
Is it another self that is living in the constraints of another hallucigenic memory of another?

To understand this I take into consideration two words.
I say I am intelligent and beautiful

So now I wonder, what is intelligence without the other? What is beauty without reference to another? intelligence without another mind, beauty without another eye whether it is the eye of the heart or the actual eye
For in both cases, there is a fundamental “thought” behind it that I ignore many times

Whether that another is external or within the mind that has a reference to another idea, another frame of reference within my mind
If it is true that one is only in reference to the other, then one cannot be itself, myself
I can only exist in reference to the other, in the memory of the other constantly seeking the other whether it is physically or mentally, isnt it?

In the memory of the other
I tether to the other
For further in the other, I seek another
And I in no other and in no another breaks my tether to the other, so in the other I suther
and I live in the other, for another, not knowing neither

Maybe when I let go of the thought of the other, the thought of the other will let go of me
So that I can look at the me, as me, that is thinking of me that is having the thought of me to think of me within me to know me of the me
Maybe then I may come across the me that has no memory of me, no thought of me nor the me
Maybe then, I may come across the unknown unknown of the unknown to the unknown