As the spring’s breath goes down your neck, the familiar ecstasy of the future, and the possibilities of the past fill you up. Looking up at the purple and grey horizon, realizing that the day is coming to an end, the only thought that goes through your mind is but a simple question. A sliver of the possibilities thrown upon you. A smile on your face and a disposed sense of happiness is soon to be all but naught. But the question still lingers. Was this life fulfilled, or will the next one have to suffice? You never know the answer till you get to the gate of life itself, that bridge to eternal slumber. Only given to those who have brought peace to not only their life, but radiated it unto others in a way that they will never know. The consequences of such a life are but simple rest. A peace unlike any other. A hope fulfillment. Like the twinkle on a candle is about to die, but finding out at the last moment your wax is being used to support others, and to help those who feel like their flame is about to burn out. That, is what true peace is. Knowledge of the past, and a hope and passion for the future. It’s a feeling that you can only get once, and it can only happen once your days have ended… But if you have not fulfilled this vial, then you must start over. From the beginning. Rebirth of a soul threw the means of a child. Transporting your life’s purpose to another individual, until you yourself have fulfilled your true dream in life, and achieved final rest… That is what life is about. And those crystal gates are calling my name, waiting, yearning, for me to come home…
Archive for January, 2012
The words escape my mind. The patterns and colors flowing through my head are as they once were, but also as I left them.
It’s like being shown a picture of the past, and having everything come back to you. But this time, the picture is of an actual essence, and the past is actually here. People say not to dwell on the past, but what they really mean to do is forget about it, and pretend it’s more like they read it in a book or something. It’s not of actually personal importance, but more the idea of it “has” existed. So what do you do when that book has fallen off the shelf, and is lying open right in your path. Do you pick it up and think about the contents as you put it back on the shelf… or do you dive back in, and make everything that once was, like a story your acting out. These are the questions I ask myself, and are the answers themselves. But not knowing which line up is the problem I am struggling with. Is it still considered reminiscing on the past if the past is thrown back on you? Or if the past never quite got finished? Does the past stay past, even though you want to continue living it? I feel the author side of me creeping up. I see a book that I left unfinished and I feel the need to finish it. But the problem is that in order to finish the past book, I have to stop writing the one I am currently working on… So do I continue?
Or do I pick up the old and finish what I feel I should never have let leave my hands…
