A Seclusive Trip

Sitting here where my past lies still; unbending to the times a the city changes all around me. My memory still clings to me, while my mind asks if I should forget just a little--to make this life easier.

But I've never been the one to appreciate it easy: I need things to be natural, I want to adapt to become something better--something that can reckon with the age... and win. For what else is this life for, but to command it, but to lead this world upon a visionary dream. I see the world as it could be... as it must be, if we are to grow out of this small nature and perhaps gain the future.

Because of this--does the stones speak to you? Because of this, does the winds whisper? I've tried to drown myself; to see if just some ordinary life would be worth it--if I could settle for something less and live with that; but something keeps pulling me back, as like a natural instinct for fresh air.

I could not be lost--I could only not know--the path--I might never find, but I know that growing old and cynical will never be in the books for me--nor growing old and practical--so from this trip--a revelation emerges; do what is difficult --> treat the easy as your constant energy. The seduction of the comfort of civilization are many; yet golden cages never suit someone who would gladly walk the desert in search for the Truth.

I don't live in a world of pure Art. I live in a world where the Age controls, conflicts, and destroys the present. Our ever present capitalization.