Paul sees this vision as a mockery of him. His heart is filled with rage and an inexplicable resentment casts a shadow over him. He looks up at the night sky and sees the stars grin. He looks over the owl in the tree and feels his cruel judgment. He recalls all the time he has lost Symba, and his inadequacy bruises his skin. He finds himself in the fires of hell, where even death cannot save him.
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please stop talking your inferior conscious awareness is showing
"To play devil is fun until there is no more God to rebel against. Then you learn you simply tricked yourself into thinking you beat something, when in reality you were all alone. Then you realize you are God. Truly alone with nothing to fight against but your own ego."
Paul begins to wonder if he really misses Symba. He begins to wonder if he had a cat in the first place, or if it was just a product of his imagination to cope with his unbelonging and the incredible despair of the world. The search has left him weary and has only made him more confused.
He decides to lie on the grass until his day comes.
He decides to lie on the grass until his day comes.
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In the foggy desert, I saw the silhouette of the Man
Still—as if the world was built around where he stands.
Hesitant: should I approach, or should I yell,
I marveled at what I could see in his hands:
a gun—a form timeless, a shape shapeless—
As if crafted by all who died in the forgotten lands.
He lifted his hand, cold as the autumn wind,
And the bullet's howl echoed 'round us, ignoring all my demands
Still—as if the world was built around where he stands.
Hesitant: should I approach, or should I yell,
I marveled at what I could see in his hands:
a gun—a form timeless, a shape shapeless—
As if crafted by all who died in the forgotten lands.
He lifted his hand, cold as the autumn wind,
And the bullet's howl echoed 'round us, ignoring all my demands