Walking Along The Bayou

Wading and wondering, I see. Upon the waters of life and living lie the remains of those best forgotten to the sands of a long time since past. History does repeat itself but in that respect so too does time. In this cycle, though we find captivation, the yearn we feel is the scratch that will just not itch. In the depths of self-torment we find life but in the name of zombie control we leave living to those best suited for such. I suppose that really is the point of it all - leaving life to the living.

Walking between two worlds in the crack of never ending pause, the comings and goings of those in earnest, cycle through fast and furious. Though the time of ill-spent youth is ever upon us only in the senility of old age does the pace slow enough for the creaking of some old and long forgotten wisdom to make itself known once again, once again. In the endless cycle of rebirth we ever die a slow and painful death of ignorance. Perhaps it's time to burst a bubble or two.

A garden tenderer will tend as is the just cause of desire. What moves the wind towards war or peace is but a hair's breath of motion, of energy in action. In this expression I know it only too well. Is the curse of long life knowledge or is this also best dispensed with? In the annuals of time and testament the survivors heap flowery praise upon themselves in a grandiose show of force. Hollywood pales in comparison but so does just about every other little thing here.

In the shadows of the past life endures and upon being evicted it tends to tremble in timidity usually accompanied with the haste of regret. Why oh why do the effected understand their parts ever so well? In the breaking a shattering occurs and to this I yearn. It certainly doesn't mean a job well done but in reorienting the commonality of conviction shards become but a by-product of inevitability.

It is inevitable I guarantee you that. But that is not the point here.

In pursuing a meandering journey through time and the space which lies between one's thoughts surely the center of awareness is achieved and in the resulting explosion of recognition a new dimension comes to be. In the way of being, a samurai knows that eventually the end comes nigh and so it must be faced in the same manner of other, less serious paths borne among the land of life and living. Surely we acquiesce self-determination in order to achieve the ultimate desire of recognition. Surely we gladly bend at the knee in homage to such endeavors.

Surely embracing the honorable life continues to be duty-bound. Perhaps I am just being the realistic idealist that I am and endure the insanity just waiting for someone to come to their senses just enough to... leave. That's the funny thing about these-here parts, there is no hesitation in leaving the party. But for those who revel in the synchronicity of group-think why not just continue on as if nothing is happening. Why not just turn another blind eye to one's flesh and blood in the hope that no one will notice.

Why not just have the world in your own image.

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