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About Me
The promise of eternity seems to fade out of my fingertips as if water. Each breath I exhale brings more decaying flesh, and a thin film of time beneath my belt. This has taught me to take for granted not the harsh light of peace and loving, but rather to ignore the latter instance in the sands of Father Azile. A plague of new virtue wreaks it's pestilence in a way where no man should ever have to hold. Avarice is the new gentleman. Today, conforming, and contorting what mankind was into some sort of shadow stitch that weaves and hides behind the shoulder of mankind as a whole. Watching and waiting for another glimpse of a forthcoming bloodshed. Life is but a slow sandstorm, stirring only for the most anxious times of true serenity, jarring all peace and sanctity that we have grown to build. All other happenings just help each minuscule rock grain tick slowly into the bottom half of the hour glass. Even if you sift through all the memories and sand, you will never be able to go back and renew life for and repave over the simple regrets, all you can do is quietly reminisce and pray that it does not happen again, and pray for the pain to go away. It never does. When tragedy lives, the grim truth that Death (in her immortality) will knock on my door, mocking me as she gets to claim what I spent years building towards. Knowledge, LOVE, health. No matter how far the sciences strain, they will never marry me to Bliss, nor the mistress that can grant me eternal happiness , nor can I be granted perfect worlds of my own. My own fading consciousness, and ever growing weariness for the follies that I've created (and the men that rule over me) tell me that no matter what a beautiful box seven by three by two is there just waiting for me. And I'm to fill it when my breath expires from my lungs no more. No going back, no fixing mistakes, no second chances. I'm not to run away gaily hand in hand with my mistakes, nor push away Death with medicines created from my fellow brethren in the race for fighting a past. I am doomed to walk with my new mistress, as I am doomed to wallow in seas of regret over the past that I've created for myself. Sandstorm coming, tempest roaring and with dirt in my eyes, I trek onward, taking nothing , not anymore, for granted. Nothing can change what we do, but solitarily, we can live and die with valor and honor. We live in a time where the living decay, and the dead are forgotten. We venture for just for a generation of mourning; then for an ultimately nameless grave. Searching. Foolishly searching the waves that crest, and the wake for that beautiful iridescent light that only comes when day is coming to greet us; or when it's falling away to show the other half of the world it's splendor and beauty. I do not think enough people stop to look and appreciate things as they go by. It's funny, we are a land bound race, and ocean bore; and when we die we will return to the mother of all nature. That's what I was always taught, and I hold that to every key of my life, even Love. When the sun here, finally sets (if it hasn't already) a beautiful low hanging moon will resume the Suns course, showing another, yet darker, spectacular world view. Remember, though, you feel more alone in the night, than you do in the day. I fear the night, yet have grown to embrace it. Eventually, though, we are consumed by a total and complete blackness. We will carry onward, following whatever paths our various Faiths would allow. Together we weave this beautiful tapestry of life. In this life we will explore millions of occurrences that will feed us eons of sadness, anger, jealousy, and happiness. The most important being happiness, with the most dominant claming throne as Sorrow, with a Prince of Envy. The majority of us float through life without any qualms, like sheep, I'd assume, not questioning how or what we feel. I question life everyday. Flutter…Stop. The sun is setting.
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