The prime objective of a great man should be to own his utmost self. Great men should be a god unto himself and of the mob, let them rot away in one-dimensional laughter and futile thoughts.
The revaluation of values.
The god in oneself must muster the strength to depart from traditional values in pure and holy spite for antiquity betrays logic. A celestial mind does not fret the old, for what is old but feeble and delicate?
The value of being human.
It exhausts all force, this constant struggle to prove to man that you are human, one that shant be subjected to any scale or measure. But what is being human if not the continual deterioration of power and possibilities?
The value of life.
Whether a life is beautifully led or just a ‘blind-foldedly’-thrown-to-the-sea-incident, it is without value. Life is devoid of meaning, a random mistake of the cosmos, a shadow of a mischievous phantom treading burning coals in broad daylight, an unforgiveable fault of a ruthless god even.
Men have strived to find solace in existence by attaching purpose in this otherwise random breathe perpetuity but what one has really accounted for purpose is merely an excuse to hang on to things that one has learned to love. Mean have attached reason to living because they have been too attached to living but the depths of existence remains hollow, down there not even an ant resides.
What do you live for? Would that, you would have been informed from the moment of conception or even of birth that that was your life’s purpose. How obtrusive that would have made the world, imposing unto a feeble mind and a little soul the course of his existence. Yet the Bible readily speaks of freewill?
Life is recurrent death to someone who would rather die.