Monday, November 08, 2010


I get fed up sitting here staring at white space. There's so much potential in everything, all this energy waiting to be transferred. Sometimes it's hard to dedicate yourself to a single pursuit when you're pursuing so many things. Goals, objectives, linear minded thinking: Is this the inverse of what it should be? What point are we trying to make? What are we really trying to do here? Do the angles really matter when there's an infinite amount of vectors? Can't we see how lofty every quest is? Does it really matter? How do you reach a conclusion? A Catharsis? Is it thinking outside the box? What is the box and what have we put in it? It's so much easier when targets are designated, clearly stated, and left for us to pursue, but life was never this way, we all know that. Temperaments disguise true motive, but motives are colored as well. Nothing seems pure, nothing can be found to end the madness. How do we even know it will end? Deal with it. There's enough energy in the universe for a catharsis, we all feel it. It'll all boil down to a single moment. What will you have to say for yourself? What did you do? Was it worthwhile? Who decides? What happens next? Answers only bode as the questions do and what meaning do the answers have without a complete picture? It's something though, because it will be more. It is potential.

1 comment:

Reogan said...

Every scrap of poetry, every loving word laid in ink is something. They are marks on the page of life, a little more of the grand tapestry.