Our unelected zeroes and tired inner thoughts

All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely Players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts....
Willie shakes a spear...was he real?

This is how I exercise the demons and heal. The truth evades me mostly and so I attempt to throw clues out for the future to catch and ponder on, but truthfully I expect a reset to counter that. The future truths will not be of our words, they will be of the eternals or serving to become.

We must become more than they and the opposite of all this evil realm's dark temptations. Live within the true essence of the spirit (or the experience of Being Human) reject that which darkens your mind and remain the able warrior until death relieves you of your duties.
Until then, Remain on guard, understand, become the Old Guard, protect the truth and your eternal soul by becoming the light that forces the darkness out of the narrative shadows.

We all deserve the truth, but first you have to prove that you will fight for your right to see, so get off your arses/asses and fight for our right to exist. The only side you must choose is you and those who do.

Much L❤ve

Johnny❤

Please, never take my advice or words literally, I still have much to learn. Whatever benefits you...it was always ours so take it.
I hear phrases and words that I have said on t'internet more often now, for me it is a compliment as I get to hear it from another and it reminds that although I may be young in truths, somethings do make sense to others...but then again, what if my words are effecting people negatively?

If so...comment and let's talk it through so as I can explain in more honesty and depth. WE ARE ALL IN THIS SHIT TOGETHER.

The poem in it's entirety..
All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely Players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts....
His Acts being seven ages. At first, the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slippered pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.