Autobiography on topic time
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An autobiography is a written account of the life of a person written by that person. In other words, it is the story that a person wrote about themselves.
The word has Greek origin.
There are but few and scattered examples of autobiographical literature in antiquity and the Middle Ages. In the 2nd century bce the Chinese classical historian Sima Qian included a brief account of himself in the Shiji (“Historical Records”). It may be stretching a point to include, from the 1st century bce, the letters of Cicero (or, in the early Christian era, the letters of St. Paul), and Julius Caesar’s Commentaries tell little about Caesar, though they present a masterly picture of the conquest of Gaul and the operations of the Roman military machine at its most efficient. Generally speaking, autobiography in its modern, Western sense can be considered to have emerged in Europe during the Renaissance, in the 15th century. One of the first examples was written in England by Margery Kempe.
CONTENT
Thinking about if or how I was born will bourne no fruit in my eternal hands. I am the one who gives birth, I am who lets things flow, from one form to another. The flow with an automaticity in its consistency, is constancy. I mark the beginning and I mark the beginning of the end. I give birth to beginning and end, I shape the flow of all that has the capability to flow. I am the reason things are, I am the reason things become. I am the reason to life , I am the reason for its continuity. I am who sustains continuity. I am who sustains sustenance. I am the ultimate witness, I am the true judge.
I know how to talk about the only one who has remained constant from the beginning of the beginning : change. Change is the plank I survive on. My wings are grey, a combination of black and white. They are weary, they are dusty but they are legendary. They are who mark what is legendary. They carry every particle this universe has ever perceived through touch – from stardust to teardrops,from mercury to gold. I carry all the shades and colours that constitute the black and the white in my wings.I carry generations in me, through change, through flow.I am who consumes and utilizes both consumption and utilization. I am who shapes strength and exhaustion, I am also the reason why we need either strength or exhaustion.I am who decides incidence and its position in one’s life. I am the one who witnessed life get born from stars.I embrace vacancy, I embrace truth. I am the fourth dimension of space. I form the mirror and I am the image. I am reality embedded in oblivion. In my flow, I carry all that was, all that is and all that’s to happen till eternity. I carry eternity infinitely. I carry infinite infinitely.
From the art of elation to that of sorrow, I teach life to live. I determine the storms that rage through, I determine the storm and the rage and all the water that flows, all that penetrates, within the life of the living and that of the tranquil.
The load I carry is infinitely heavier than Atlas ever has had to. He is known to have carried the weight of the planet earth on his shoulders. I have carried the load of the universe, alone, for the sake of all the ages I have given birth to.
The load I carry is infinitely heavier than Atlas ever has had to. He is known to have carried the weight of the planet earth on his shoulders. I have carried the load of the universe, alone, for the sake of all the ages I have given birth to.I am the creator, I am creativity, I am the determinant, the ultimate judge, the flow, the infinite and I am who was born to myself. My rebirth marks eternity. My weary eyes, after millions of wars and talks of peace get wearier as I pass on; only the sparkle in them retains the tone in a mixture of silver and golden. I am far and I am near,I am who is close to the soul, yet I am the one who knows no bounds and my entities are unknown to everyone else existent in the universe.
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