schizo rants #2

The Jester, the true shadow archetype, dances free of the collective psyche's shackles, gliding on chaos’s tightrope. A spectral anomaly, he delights in destruction’s hysteria, where society sees ruin he finds comfort. Unbound from mediocrity he laughs into the abyss his voice a jagged echo that splinters the illusions they cling to. The Aeonic clock halts until his anarchic touch sets its ticking once more, a rhythm not from order but from a wild pulse beneath existence. His dance is not a rebellion, it’s a revelation peeling back the skin we’ve woven over our primal depths. In his shadow the masks of propriety dissolve, and the air grows thick with the scent of unshackled possibility, the kind of freedom that is lost today. To the world he is a harbinger of collapse, but to himself he is the flame that purges stagnation illuminating the beauty in the edges of being.