We Must Live In Order To Die

Forged in a fire which burns coldly in it's heart, waking up is not always an easy or pleasant thing to do. Facing our own torments, we tend to run and hide. Of course getting there is half the fun and so we come to relish the opportunity to escape. But where is it that we will go and what is it that we will do? Have we not already done and said enough yet? Has not our cup runneth over?

As we spill our selves out into the world we come to be everywhere at once always tempting and tempted with new experience, new thoughts, always something to hold near and dear to us. Clutching, we ever fail to grasp the concept and so relinquish control to might in the hopes that conquest will be ours.

Hope is not for the living, but for the dead and dying.

Life, in it's infinite capacity to wield itself over and above us, calls out to us each and every moment. It calls us by name and yet we respond not. We cement ourselves in ignorance and take refuge in our glee of escape. Running away we attempt to leave it all behind but alas it is not to be. Captured in eternity we come to know of no bounds but only through trial and error do we realize this. We must live in order to die.