Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Find the Shore
If I spent a lifetime wandering, I'm not sure whether I would be able to rummage through the dark chest my mixed feelings and grab the one of the many that I feel for sure. It's too difficult to be certain; it's too easy to live in uncertainty. The chaotic maelstrom of emotions are a refuge, a safe harbour - familiar. To venture out to discover the truth is daunting, in a way only blue skies can be. Some ships are definitely destined to never set sail, and not all those which cut loose their moorings return to port. Yet one cannot live spending a lifetime shut away from the fears of living. And one cannot progress when each step is a step into the fog.
I'd like for someone to live in my skin, to understand the muddled mess of my mind. I wonder if anyone would be able to make any sense of it. Take a feeling from the storm, mould it in your hands, make it the shape it's supposed to be. Show me the colours through which my life could turn. Tell me whether it's lust or love, confusion or worry, fear or laziness. Explain the weariness, take it away. Show me the path of happiness so that I may follow it. Let me not lie and while the days away.
When does being a dreamer become dangerous?
Is it when you create a life away from the nightmare, a life steeped in music and poetry and beauty, and the seduction of pain?
Is it when you face reality with only a dull notion of what is real and what isn't?
Is it when you are so tired of the way life progresses that you sleep your whole way through?
Is escapism the ultimate doom?
Is the only way to live to die and be born again?