Friday, May 13, 2011

Refracted Illusions of Half Truths

Abundance of much might equal the presence of nothing. I wonder if a mind full of thoughts trapped there might be the same as being a mind empty? Water that does not move becomes stagnate and hence lifeless. I have known those whose disposition was best described as morose; I think that is not me. However it is akin to the same feeling you get when you hear "if I could do what you do..." The carrot beyond your grasp eventually rots and deep down you ferment with the knowledge that it was your fault. Someone greater would have seized the day and been well fed by now. Moments fly by and opportunities are best viewed in the rears. I don't know if our wisdom is only from our mistakes or our enlightenments are but tortures inflicted by something bored by our challengeless mortalities.

The dinosaurs, the Incans and ancient ones are all invisible witnesses to the chaos of time as the mighty ships of traditions and ideals begin to crumble from the inexhaustable infinities of our minute frailties span before our paths. And yet, with all that said, I am only getting better, getting stronger, becoming more indestructable and perishing at the same time. It would seem to make no sense and nothing but sense in the same breath. Days surrounded by people and maintaining solitary presence allows a vision unseen by most. The older I become the more I respect what was once the thorn that always kept me out of various desired circles. Its funny how once you don't need things how motivated they are to come to you. Perhaps that is the universe's way of maintaining balance or the retribution of the shameless. The equals and opposites are balanced to the letter. Our attempts to defy such laws only increase our demise. Eagles love the sky, fish love the water and man boasts of his choice. Is he imperfect by choice? Is that His perfection? Are we the perfect mistakes?


1 comment:

Andrew Stanfield said...

Respect 'the thorn,' yes...but want to stop fighting it? I think the fight is what we live for, in a sense. We never arrive at the perfect moment, we always try to have one more.

PS. the 'ancient ones'?