(no subject)
I wonder if every action and decision, every carefully thought-out plan or impulsive leap will always lead to this tangle of might-be's and what-if's. Nothing truly regretful, because I don't regret anything in my life, but with twinges of vague not-quite-regret that somehow manages to make me feel guilty in a wistful, subdued fashion. It is impossible to tell where the branching road of my life leads. Is it overgrown? Wide and brightly lit? Secret and dark? Will it converge later with any of the other paths I might have chosen but did not? Do the lessons become less tedious over time and the happy things brighter and more intense?
Will my imagination fail and fade as I grow older, worn down by the cares of a hundred thousand years?
Will love still shine as bright?
Will comfort ever lose its appeal, or become less necessary?
I think if I could just fade and become one, I might do so right now. Not always - hardly ever, in fact. Right at this very second in time, however, it holds tremendous appeal. The simplicity of existence overwhelms me.
Will my imagination fail and fade as I grow older, worn down by the cares of a hundred thousand years?
Will love still shine as bright?
Will comfort ever lose its appeal, or become less necessary?
I think if I could just fade and become one, I might do so right now. Not always - hardly ever, in fact. Right at this very second in time, however, it holds tremendous appeal. The simplicity of existence overwhelms me.