Chapter Fifty Seven: Autumn

While the trees are innocently shedding off their leaves in time for the coming winter, all the time spent within the confined space of New York City's Central Park are people sitting in quiet solitude, enjoying the soft blowing wind, and relishing the cold, longer nights and shorter days. But the park's innocence has been notably deminishing by becoming the unwilling witness to a pool of unseen substances that were metamorphosing within its midst, with the miraculous process involved was a result of the known powerful impetus (i.e., love) in direct proportion to another dimension.

The present situation reeks of the traces of ruins from the descriptive world of the lost Empire (a fair assessment coming from a legitimate allegory) that have been told and retold several times (especially to the bona fide members of the Society), a film that has lately been the subject of many candid reviews, mostly favorable and generously substantive, with all of its annotations delicately preserved in the safekeeping of the Archives, and its preservation within the faithful custody of the most competent Record Officers.

It was also a reminder of the invisible things needing of a proper instrument or a capable agent or a suitable host. Because in the adequate understanding of the knowledge of the things unseen, primarily with those important concepts stemming from the cathedra of Wisdom, the things invisible become the proximate means in which a competent person tend to rationalize his reasons for being, and then suitably apply it to his own autonomy to regulate his emotions, and appreciate the ecological dynamics of his environment.

The true ideals of complete liberation is not enclosed fundamentally in the philosophical sense afforded in materialistic thoughts; for outside the weakness of the human flesh and the efficacy of automation, one must deal with the painful realization that reality involves the pain of material death. To free one's consciousness from the limited capacity of the organic composition of man's living body, the effort simply evolves as a contravention of the very design of how the universe, its particles, and its expansion in light-years become the living reason of a going concern.

To embrace the true qualities of the Sovereign, however a competent rational soul might be able to define it, any inquisitive soul will simply lack in his personal search all the precise meanings of the required technical description of his own world. One cannot fittingly describe something without the parameters of tangible materiality; a person is living inside his mind all the time, deliberately guided by his sense of sight, and, by considering this same capability, it is nearly impossible to define freedom in the exact same thing and purpose as what can become created and visible.

As a careful corroboration for the truth, it can ve held that invisible things are exclusively described as a complicated abstraction that, at first glance, was generally forned from the visible chaos of distorted lines and disorderly shapes.

To experience the invisible qualities of anything metaphysically unseen is similar in duty to the search for meaning, stare at it with the required fiierceness of an intelligent mind, to feel and see through the material fabric of anything created and into the fullness of understanding, as such invisible thing manifests within its own accord the same standards of his own mold and personal bias, although any form of truth must be able to comply and to be investigated with the requisite of defined technical difficulties.

Anything that escapes a person's notice is indicative of either insensitivity or ignorance of the fact being considered. Or maybe it is due to the lack of familiarity with the epistemic contribution in its entirety, and according to the limitations to excel from which he exercises his effective methods of learning derived from the lack of comprehension of his own faculty.

Just like the sturdy trees when the season changes, the falling leaves remind the ecosystem of the beauty of its intended purpose. And while the sun shines brightly in the middle of the busy day, it reflects the energy it receives from the beholder. The world is a mirror, and the important person who is looking at its vastness will end up searching his mind for words and beauty he already knew, but, in the end, his voice will always end up describing his own self.

The world is a lush empire of trees by default, after all. And from within its own cradle, the forest is also home to something invisible.

In Central Park, however, the trees are hiding something of pure evil that is quietly breeding. The trees are being held as captives.

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