Timeless Measures of this life
Time has once again gotten away from me. The hustle and bustle of everyday life now longs for something new and exciting. I search the bars, clubs and places that the dream might be in and have found nothing. Dark silhouettes dance upon my every try as if the devil himself wished no happiness for me. The cold wind hits me from all directions leaving not a place upon me untouched. So many are these days that they seem my life again.
The friends I have here in this place seem nothing less then a thieves guild. Once upon the motion of talking to someone they seek that same person out to clinch as a goal. The over exertion of the betrayal flows till no end.
The scene is the same, and the people useless. More over I have become use to the reality of the warped. They think they are of the normal state, yet do they really know anything of this? In all the perplex situations of this world I find myself lost in the mist of drama, hate, despair, and of course loneliness. The ones whom I would call friends have all but left me to die. Or in some way perhaps I pushed them away as the help poured in.
The world once again has placed a rope out for me calling me to it. I wonder why in my heart I am not the brave to take a hold of the rope. So many of the greats have done it and yet I am still unable. Perhaps the understanding of feeling the rope witch I can not even do would have some
meaning to it all. The life I now live is not understandable even by me anymore. Once I spoke of some understanding and yet have not lost all of that in my own turmoil.
Of the way in which I have grown it is down. The experiences of this life are all in some futile record with the Gods! They are the only ones whom find my life to be of amusement. To not know the knowing and yet know the future is a terrible life of ones self. The dream land state of
following the dreams of myself have yet again left me. I think of the feeling all the time and yet have not yet the reason to motivate because of failure. To not try, I rationalise is much better then to try and fail in some respect. My own experiences tell me I am good enough yet life shows
me I must be wrong. We never really understand the meaning of all these things until the realisation hits us at death.
My own self now wonders in the understanding of the me. Me, myself, and I have done some much and yet have not moved. Me, myself, and I can do so much yet are never given the chance to show all of this. Me, myself, and I will become one with the understanding of the way in which all of humanity must reside. Me, myself, and I will only understand all of this and more by the trying of this that it may become so. Me, myself, and I will in the end enter into a singularity of self and only then will it all become the true one.
Of some who I never speak with you may not understand all of this and more yet you may. Life in the self it is takes us, breaks us, and hinders us to the extreme. More over the situations of this life do the same if not double. Perplexing issues of these natures can only be examined by the
one whom creates them and lives them. Timeless measures of walls, holes, cracks, pain, and torture of self, break even the strongest of men. This is where the end becomes the new and the pain reflects outward to the world of the ones whom never understood the meanings left or shown.