Zealous charge

Times stopped again, the feeling as surreal as ever. So certain by it one can compare it with the certainty of the rising sun.

As time has stopped it has waited for transition, the era once known gone, such acts and behaviours must be phased away.

The new song to follow old, but anew. It has waited even after your failures. It cannot wait forever, its time to leap, to make the charge. Its doors readily open and primmed to shut with swift cause.

Times ticking, all to familiar.
Make that noble note, perhaps to even be reconciled, to walk your own path that you have stumbled off.

The reclamation of your rights.
The gates are shutting, times ticking back.

Its time.

Death closes all: but something ere in the end, some work of noble note, may yet be done, Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods

Symphony of the Solitude

Death closes all: but something ere in the end, some work of noble note, may yet be done, Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods

Wandering through the timeless maze, baffled and lost once again. Tricked and fooled by a guide less sense of curiosity, no idea where I am.

As I sit patiently, the thoughts that have stood still have begun to work their gears again, though they should be rusted and worn, they feel as if they've become a new. As if nothings changed and its just deja vu .

Let the peace sink in, though it might feel like a cold dagger through your heart, it's the gentle slide of the orchestrated hand. It rests here to play the final tune, playing it in solitude, alone and crude. Let it not be feared.

Times best to be moving on, such things just must be.

Now, let us sit back with contempt and gratitude. To praise those gone, to long for those unseen.
Let us hear the song, let me hear the song. Just let me be, please.

"We wanderers, ever seeking the lonelier way, begin no day where we have ended another day; and no sunrise finds us where the sunset left us"

"Find something to believe in and find it for yourself. And when you do, pass it on to the future"

Spirit of the Night

"If you're going to doubt yourself, I'll leave you here. ... Never doubt yourself. Only let it make you stronger."

Still and restless, tired and awake. Dreaming for too long, its time to wake up. Wander along the tall grass, to gaze upon the endless sky, to drift past the stars and see the world a new.

"We wanderers, ever seeking the lonelier way, begin no day where we have ended another day; and no sunrise finds us where the sunset left us"

"I've never been interested in other people's lives"

Subjective, cultural, Structural

Whats it worth?

Whats your name?

Does it matter?
I've never been interested in other people's lives

Just

Observing from afar, just as an astronomer would gazing at the night sky; observing the the never ending view of space and its beauty.

Just ... different? I don't know

"To judge you by your failures is to cast blame upon the seasons for their inconstancy"

As quick as the wind changes and as fast as the tides hit the Earth, it seems I too have left the impression of passing and difference from old.

"We wanderers, ever seeking the lonelier way, begin no day where we have ended another day; and no sunrise finds us where the sunset left us"

"And is not time even as love is, undivided and paceless?
But if in thought you must measure time into seasons, let each season encircle all the other seasons.
And let to-day embrace the past with remembrance and the future with longing"

Night,
Rest Easy

Path of the Soul

Say not, "I have found the the truth," but rather, "I have found a truth."
Say not, "I have found the path of the soul."
Say rather, "I have met the soul walking upon my path."
For the soul walks upon all paths.
The soul walks not upon a line, neither does it grow like a reed.
the soul unfolds itself, like a lotus of contntless petals.

Seeing the truth blindly and as clearly as I see the day and people around me, to what fortune will this new found glory lead to? The dreams of old become anew ...

Perhaps this will shed some light on the shadows that you walk across to, but know that the fires will not keep it lit forever, it will fade to be never seen again.

Speak of talking.
And he answered, saying:
You talk when you cease to be at peace with your thoughts;
And when you can no longer dwell in the solitude of your heart and live in your lips, and sound is a diversion and pastime.
And in much of your talking, thinking is half murdered.
For thought is a bird of space, that in a cage of words may indeed unfold its wings but cannot fly.


Good Night,
Rest Easy