musing
and if the wine you drink, the lip you press,
end in the nothing all things end in - yes,
then fancy while thou art, thou art but what,
thou shalt be - nothing - thou shalt not be less.
-omar khayyam
i struggle with that nothing that we are. inconsequential. i am. like flotsam and not a man. as they are, we are, and will always be sad, lonely, and depraved beings. what you write is already written. what you do has been done. who you are someon has been. growing and clogging the rotations on the wheel of life we are, and will be, until war. then maybe after... ahh sweet helplessness. desperation. denial. you know why god made our knees so tough and our fingers so comforable when interlaced within themselves.
when you're not afraid of death the demons seem as angels do, release. relief. maybe even protection. i wish i knew how to find my enemy that i may fight him. to kill or be killed by him. perhaps it was a battle i've already passed and lost. perhaps i am the patron who has fallen into hell and will return after ten years.
i glimpsed happiness yesterday and a week ago. it always seems to be contingent on self denial. not the good kind either. but the kind where your resolve must be compromised to stay happy. i suppose im just too damn stubborn to give my beliefs away.
why do i have the suspicion that in order to move ahead i must leave you all behind? let's try that for a while and see if im right. goodbye.
end in the nothing all things end in - yes,
then fancy while thou art, thou art but what,
thou shalt be - nothing - thou shalt not be less.
-omar khayyam
i struggle with that nothing that we are. inconsequential. i am. like flotsam and not a man. as they are, we are, and will always be sad, lonely, and depraved beings. what you write is already written. what you do has been done. who you are someon has been. growing and clogging the rotations on the wheel of life we are, and will be, until war. then maybe after... ahh sweet helplessness. desperation. denial. you know why god made our knees so tough and our fingers so comforable when interlaced within themselves.
when you're not afraid of death the demons seem as angels do, release. relief. maybe even protection. i wish i knew how to find my enemy that i may fight him. to kill or be killed by him. perhaps it was a battle i've already passed and lost. perhaps i am the patron who has fallen into hell and will return after ten years.
i glimpsed happiness yesterday and a week ago. it always seems to be contingent on self denial. not the good kind either. but the kind where your resolve must be compromised to stay happy. i suppose im just too damn stubborn to give my beliefs away.
why do i have the suspicion that in order to move ahead i must leave you all behind? let's try that for a while and see if im right. goodbye.