Crumble

My world is a perfect white castle glistening on the beach. From my window everything is beautiful. Every sunrise and sunset is prestine. There in nothing flawed in my castle. Everything has its place and is content to stay there. Life is simple. Life is secure.

One day my castle rumbled. It began to totter and shake. It was that day that I realized my castle is sand and this fantasy of perfection can no longer remain. Every wave batters a little more at my foundation. I wonder, will a day come that I will be swept out to sea? How long will my fortress take this battering until nothing is left but a pile of mud? Life once so simple and so sweetly innocent has turned and transformed into something altogether new. Do I choose to see it as disaster? Suprisingly no. I see it as adventure. I am liberted from the bonds of perfection into a world where all things are possible. Let this castle of sand crumble into dust. There is an adventure waiting to be had.

Follow

The mind plays tricks on the heart.
And the heart with suspicion stays silent
and lets the mind take the lead.
Who can know where this flow of thought will take me.
Take me, take me, take me.
Where will it take you and us and us and you.
Take me far.

The delusions of the mind strong and subtle
yet irrevocably lazily drips
till it drowns all other influence.
The mind will take me
where love dare not follow- follow follow follow,
follow me to the place where the timid dare not go,
to a land where dire death
and faith and life and love and hope
become entwined
and meet into a great struggle of thought.

To a cold and dark land, stale and pale yellow.
Nothing to love,
nothing to be loved by.
Reason is King.
Reason executes the unfaithful.
Reason will accept no contradiction of thought,
no acceptance of morality greater than thought.
Mind over matter
so we’ve been told.

Take me deeper in-
to a land of giants and goblins.
The place in my mind
where dreams and nightmares
fettishly entwine themselves together
disguising the good as evil and evil as good.
The place where finally the mind no longer has control
and the heart leads the way.

Leads the way up and out.
From the valley of the shadow of reason
to the light of the truth of my heart.

Follow your heart so we’ve been told.
Follow it,
although it be torn from you chest
and walks on its own legs
into danger unknown.

Follow follow follow
into the place where the brave dare not follow.
The land where unicorns and angels collide.
Fantasy and phantoms of imaginations arise,
til we drown in the pleasures of our heart.
Our deceitfully wicked heart
turns traitor and our passions consume us.
Til we find neither hope of flight or hope of death.
Passionless epicurean pursuit of nothing.
All is vain the great teacher said-
all will come to nothing.

When our minds our broken
and passions of the heart no longer satisfy-
what then, what then will save?
What can we follow?
When all inside me has failed me,
mind and heart alike, where can I turn?
Its then a faint breeze whispers in my ear,
“You need not follow let me carry you”.

Bored

So I'm starting this blog, because I am very bored at work. I will not mention where I work, just that at some moments of the day I get very bored, becasue there is absolutely nothing to do. So I decided I might as well do something that is somewhat productive.

And so here I am typing away at my computer with not a clue as to what will come out of my brain at a given moment. I have aspirations to be a great writer, but as you can see my writing is mostly rambling at this point. But then that is sometimes what I consider a great writer to be- someone who simply took the energy to record their thoughts and views about life. After all that is mostly all that writing is.. well thought out ideas. Those who became great writers are the ones who had great ideas to record.

Well I'll record the thought I am having right now....this job is boring, not necessarily a thought of greatness is it? Maybe just opportunity.. at this job in which I have nothing to do, my mind has the time to think and write. It is not occupied with all the bussiness of life I have time just to sit and transpose my thoughts. Perhaps that is where some great writers start... greatly bored with what surrounds them so that they are forced to think of what could be. Maybe that is where the best stories come from. Creativity that is birthed from a void of inspiration and a lack of outside stimulation. The past few months I have not allowed myself to read any books, maybe this was to my advantage. This way my mind is not cluttered with other stories and ideas. I have time to be original. Hopefully that is what this blog will turn out to be, a record of my original ideas and inspirations birthed from boredom.