For want of a nail, the kingdom was lost. For want of a life, all fight was tossed. And now, here I stand, basking in the glow of a thousand burning memories. It is hard to discern reality from wishful thinking, hopefulness from what a ship lay sunk in the summers storm. A life of light from the winters cold, abrupt, ancient, and taking refuge in the winds of time, ever roaming from heart to heart.
Its like a skipping stone, heavy and light, atop the water having taken flight by the hand of a child, like a dream it skims the surface of the reflecting pool, only to sink into the eventuality of its own reality. Gravity. It pulls us, as the wind pushes, falling, flying, soaring, roaming... we're all coping. Thats all any of us can hope for.
I feel the life of my life, the breath of my breath, the reality of my reality inside of me, freeing the being of my inner being. A soul, it is our consciousness... It is the breath of our breath, the conversion of oxygen into life, and into death. We're all addicts.
I'm rambling now, off in a swirling torrent of thought, caught beneath the surface, and lost in the undertow. I can not make a cohesive declaration of my present state of mind. Ah... to be me.
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