l i f e i s w a i t i n g

The beauty of life is only subliminal... for all we seek to find is the irrelevance that is so inherent within what we deem as being truthfully important to the continual existence of our un-important, irrelevant selves. We cannot help our conscious minds and souls because the beautiful things we perceive are in and of themselves... in the end, irrelevant in meeting happiness.

Only the places in our heart that we only know in our deepest and darkest of moments. Where oft moments of horror and despair are the only moments when such things imbued in us see the light of day. Where beauty becomes the unexpected product of such horror and sadness that all we can do is laugh in incredulity.

Often, the worst in this world brings out the best in us.

A underlying naturalistic instinct... where we are taken from daily complexities and returned to our core and defining purposes. What is desire and the progression towards a goal when the end results of such endeavours cannot be enjoyed?

We are often reminded to do and to think in order to ensure the future happiness of our future selves, often through the neglect of who we are at this present moment. But who takes care of who we are right now when we look, work and devote ourselves to the future? When will we free ourselves from the perpeutuity of this cycle we put ourselves through when at the end of each path we ask ourselves "and then what?"

We constantly neglect the here and now... trading in our love for the moment... for moments in the future that may or may never come.

So in light of there being no answer with many different "best" solutions...

"Do not live to seize the day... but cherish it... remember it... embrace it... honor it... in the way that it already is.

For what is life when we live like each day is our last?

h o m e

Your eyes are suddenly open to the road before you now.

You turn your head back to the way you have come,
only to encounter a fog of memories of actions,
in places,
with people,
you cannot recall.

When thinking of the ways you have travelled on this road,
of which the length you cannot foretell.
You have come to realize that you have kept walking,
never resting,
never ceasing.

"I have missed too much" you say out loud.

"You have wasted so much" your mind replies.

"But you're here aren't you?' your heart replies.

Your eyes peer beyond
the seemingly unending horizon before you,

The single,
narrow road
cutting into the heart of the setting sun.

Your ears hear the fullness of the silence that surrounds you,
You smell the brisk cold that is slowly pulling itself up in the air.

There...

...in a life that seemed so full at a particular point in time,
that escapes your memory.





You are alone





But you keep walking





home.