Blog for Nameless-Value

novel, essay, poetry, criticism, diary

After all, Only Own Idea

If we from the beginning only specifying everything, probably we'd be stumbled sometime, neverthekess, if we continuously ask only how larger extent could be opened and enlarged, we'd never start anything.


Though, in conclusion, when we address to anything, so neatly and formally, only subjectively intuitive arbitrary it as even it'd be so intstinctively rough and savage, only it'd be necessary to anybody.


Conseuently only next truth could be left to us.
Only believing in our own intuition, as instinctively euipped nature and capability.
No other better idea could be there to us.


In conslusion, anybody could be awoken only at so ultimately emergently last-ditch situation.
At ordinary occasion, anything of our idea is nothing but just only empty imagination or picturing only in our own mind.
Because any critically never switchable trhth could be confirmed at only externally confirmable everything actually to us.


Anybody must die some another day.


However as long as we are alive, we'd have nothing but being alive surviving everything.


How the one who only can doubt own mind could survive?
That one must never be able to survive anything.


After all, definitely only our own idea must rescue, and secure all our hazard and break through any endangered and jeopadized anything in harsh cirisis, to us.


Only the one who can believe in it in just the most dengerous moment must be the last survivor in this world.





Dec.    1st.        2021