It's always winter without you

It's lonely and late,
It's Lonely and late,
It's lonely and Late,
Too late.

Who knows these things...

Everything comes softly, sweetly and silently. Treading on ice, usually thin ice. Waiting, in trepidation to crash. Fall and drown. Reaching. Gasping for air. In fragments between seconds, between time as we know it. For lack of a better word, a moment. Though I imagine it to be significantly shorter. It is the instant of truth...

Face the drama, the music, or whatever you wan to call it. In the middle of the turmoil and confusion. In the eye of it. Small, shining, piercing. There is the tiniest of glimmers, of the greatest of beacons. Where the universe aligns and doubt is no longer lingering.

These tiny moments of freedom are where I believe the soul is truly alive. Truly free, in the state it was meant to be in. Where it longs outward, and makes everything in effect seem so minuscule and meaningless. It longs to leave and be free. Like water draws to water, I feel my soul calling out into the unknown, into the depths of the universe. To belong, to the vast expanse of space, that makes trifles of time.

I doubt anybody would understand, but I know that there is more out there. Emptiness and nothingness is a part of a greater and magnificent order. Rather than the absence of being. And my soul is a part of that.

Maybe thats why people cant be alone. Souls are like water and drawn to one another. When the viscosity of two souls are similar, we feel an attraction to one another. The resounding confusion is due to our being in parts finite and infinite. To want something that we can not achieve, and to believe what we want is the simplest of things. Marriage, a life long companionship and trust.

Our souls yearn for the infinite, never ending, as the symbol of the ring, and our bodies yearn for the initial instant gratification, like the sparkle and shine of a diamond. I think this is the best I can explain it.

I feel like I'm playing a rigged game of cards. Where neither winning nor losing makes a difference. Where we were set up from the start.

The world is not really an ugly place. It is infinitely beautiful. Sometimes, we just forget to associate beauty with danger.

Clear the mind

I havent been writing.

Not because i have nothing to say.

I have nothing to write to.

I dont have that compelling urge to write.

To say, to feel and be with.

Eventually something will happen, something always does. And i'll write. Upon my heart and soul i'll write.

And it will be good. It will be beautiful, it will be a work worth reading.

Atleast thats what i hope

A broken down sound

In another world. Things would have been different. Things that could have been, or should have been, would have been. In another time, in another place, I would have been able to be the person I always wanted to be. The soul of me, would have been the colour I believed it should have been.

A hung head and a heavy heart. The everyday "going-ons" and the rapid pace life expands by leave me at the beginning of infinity, and pretty much at the end as well. I've grown, I've changed, I've evolved, and am somehow lost. Everything changes. The truth is. Heartbreaking truth.

Nothing is forever lost. Pertaining to matters such as the heart, the will to live, the elan of a human being, the fortitude, the strength, and the weight. As the ball and chain of society drags you down, a collar about the neck, breaking you in. It is almost easy to forget that we are people. It is easy to forget that we are made in an image. It is easy to forget that our lives are older than the stones, our ideals are older than the world, and our soul is older than the universe.

Life is a revolution. Life is a fight. Life is a struggle. Life began when everything began, and will end when everything ends. For it is not just written, but conceived. I'm alive in 85, but I've lived longer than that. I'm alive within the music. Within the beauty and splendor of the space that surrounds. I am a citizen of existence. I am...

Does sadness surround a dying star? Collapsing around itself, drawing in the universe around it? Does the density at its core mean anything? Does something so bright and brilliant so far away mean anything? Does anything anything mean anything. Not just anymore, but anyway.

Me, my room, the apartment, the neighbourhood, the country, the vast oceans, the planet, the spaces in between, the other planets, the universe, the multiverse, the vast space. Its easy to be lost when you realise how much space there is to set a destination to, yet so little time to get there. It's the Journey - just the travels, and whatever destination this battered body will take me to.

So much to say and so little words, and life, in itself is bigger than the vastness of existence. Death to death, I want to be set free.