Chaos is lunatic. Chaos is castaway. Chaos is calamitous. Chaos leaves you prostrate and portentous. Chaos is conundrum. Chaos is nauseatingly repulsive. Chaos is a farrago of unrestrained, undesired and unbalanced happenings.
So many bats in the belfry and you look aghast; make merry, for you have a chance to witness the will of the energy particles if you are enlightened enough to observe diametrically. The ordinary souls would make a faux pas in the vicinity of uncontrollable chaos; the eccentric and erudite souls would learn the nature's modus operandi in every little happening that has a complex crux. Nature loves its progeny and every atom is destined to travel a trajectory for a cause. Chaos wraps the covert, final motive with a curtain of disillusionment.
The appreciation of chaos in the adversarial light lies in the cankerous creaks of cerebral sulci; we have programmed our gap junctions to label any stimulus as an awful occurrence if it is not too obviously a pleasant one. Chaos is acerbic for the incognizant; chaos is the magic potion for the souls willing to experience transcendence.
Chaos is the corner-stone of codification. Chaos incarnates occult equilibrium. Give a tender embrace to the chaos; for in its disorderly lanes your neurons may get a chance to cruise a new trajectory and fathom the relevancy of life.
Chaos epitomizes freedom. Chaos is something closest to death. Chaos is something closest to life. The legend of chaos lies in its stupefying and orderly power, programmed to give birth to ecstatic equilibrium.
Welcome the chaos; in the confusing canals of chaos lie the kernel of life, waiting to be discovered.