No ideal is plausible, just as no man is worth their trust
But I would rather live in the moonlight than die by day
To fall from the trees than from the mechanisms of my brothers
For our fathers
We are sons
And we live for the wild spirits
Human
No ideal is plausible, just as no man is worth their trust
But I would rather live in the moonlight than die by day
To fall from the trees than from the mechanisms of my brothers
For our fathers
We are sons
And we live for the wild spirits
Human
there is one who like many - walked his feet took him where all five fingered feet once originated into the forest we feel we must walk and in fact that is where we go into what can consume us and make our meaning so small as leaves and trees surround us they do their falling and we do ours
he walked until it was time to sit his feet no longer were in use yet his hands began to tap the beat in his mind slipped into reality through his fingertips there was a sound now a sound inside him saying it must be filled with something - it would settle for most things - he stood and realized something was called for he began collecting sticks for a warmth
he once again walked
he did this until he came to a river it flowed as he flowed breathed as he breathed walked as he walked and this is where he burned what he had found
he did this for weeks searching for fulfillment in many ways he did this in such a way but in many
there was a day when he came along a man
his words are you lost
i am not are you sir
i also am not
where do you live
there is a river
that there is - i wish to build my home here
of what will you build it
of the trees of course - they serve their purpose
that they do - i burn them for warmth
i see - that is kind of you
that it is - i wish not to surround myself with the dead
but what of the living - you have just the trees in these woods
i do - and they have me - and they are peaceful
this place will be peaceful
when you bring others - is that when your peace will come
indeed
you will bring others - and they will live in what was this forest
this is true
but where will there be to walk
why sidewalks of concrete - it is a sad but inevitable
but what will there be to sit upon
benches of steel - quite sturdy
but what will there be to burn
you have been in these woods some time
what will you burn
man will take care of that
but what will it be
the only thing men know how to burn
everything
Salvador Dali - Persistence of Time
Today I realize that time is not just a figment of my imagination. As the possessions I keep track the ticking seconds in which I have been alive, I can’t help but notice that no matter my journey, their is a parallel life to mine. Not in the fact of decisions but with the idea that it simply is. There are so many who I pass on a daily basis trapped amongst time, as we all are, but as I did, misunderstanding its true power and stock that it takes in our lives. We are bodies floating along except for the instances of spontaneous productiveness which seems to come all too rarely in this world today. Time is our most precious resources in that without our time, we cannot do, we cannot react, and we cannot exist. So I ask the very few who will read this, what is your time worth to you, and your answer should be everything…
To begin I must say the purpose of this is to speak for myself and allow anyone who wishes to hear me out do so. You may not agree with me, but regardless I still love you.