Change The Channel

Where is the life, where is the love. So eager are we to indulge in the fantasies of life and living that seeing past our nose becomes undeniably exhilarating. Placing ourselves in the forefront of the action, we engage the immersive experience whole heartedly. Surviving each day, we cocoon ourselves with the rapturous moments of time, never forgetting that to live is to die.

Breathing the life out of the world, our hopes are dashed on the rocks of beingness. We stand on our own only to bend with the winds of our reflections, seeking shelter in the cove of our empty chambers. The mind is a terrible thing to waste.

Nothing survives the life we call our own. Seeking, searching and forgetting, our glee is the glue that binds us and makes the fantasy appear as something undeniably real. Letting go is not an option.

The tricksters of life appear where ever we look, eager to engage us in their complex webs of destruction. Success is measured in our ability to out run this abhorrent and mindless destruction. Becoming as the illusion, we hide from ourselves and say that we do not exist. Hiding, we appear to be real but this is only because we wish it to be so. Shedding our clothes, our nakedness is ever apparent despite our best efforts. Reality cannot be changed for it's existence depends upon the effort we exert to not make it so. Clothes help to define us, but what definition is it that needs expression?

Away from the limelight, thoughts remain as they are, a byproduct of our imagination. If you don't like what's on, change the channel.

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