Wheels and reels
Approaching the subject of watered wheels begins out of no where and yet their significance is high. Indeed the softest of whispers is heard. The wind against the lips and words into the breeze, all echoes down the spine.
Silly I am as the wheels of gray, white and black churn into this tiny filmed projection.This played reel of crushing thoughts reeks havoc over and over into the day. This one step where I just rather be perched than walking.
All night long there was calm. This need to just maintain a focused idea. Then I broke that chain. Releasing curiosity into the environment. Then I just laughed and laughed at the actions proven by grown adults acting as though they were five and twelve. It just sticks in my head as I recall the levels of immaturity that rang from lips not too long ago. Provided their own streaks of madness.
And here it shows that I am actually more on the grown up side than that of others. Yet I can't fault them for finding their childish parts. It is good to see that people of all ages can be between five and twelve. Even more so is that part of life really has more drama than initial inspection. Yet to say so would create a rift.
No thank you.
I had my fair share and would rather leave children to their own ministering.
And though I would like to step up and say something, why should I? My words mean nothing to people much less do they affect anyone. So I just write and write. Not in hopes to proclaim anything, for that isn't my project. I have no need to lay claim on any one person. I have long forgotten how to do that and even a friend isn't worthy of my claims.
So as the morning breaks open the sky with light blues and streaks of golden reds and yellows I am finding that my sighs are knocking more on the doors of sleep than that of caring for anyone. I really did give up on "friends" getting me long ago. I gave up when I was pushed into believing I was an ice queen. Frankly I am not. Just tired, I was, of all the bull manure that was placed around me.
I really don't care about people much anymore. I really don't see the point in trying to be friends with any one person right now. For to do that only forms some sort of attachment and that just isn't worth the time I have here.
Pressing onward into the morning I see that as much as I have the desire to rant over something I just can't see myself getting mad over anything. It is more along the lines of pity and laughter I find myself feeling for those people. It is a bit of cynicism but not in the hateful way. Just realizing how much I tried but I died being something - anything - for someone.
I will leave that for the colorful ones. The ones that have this objective to just keep accepting trinkets and such. Not really getting that a rich man (the real poor man) is an intelligent one and a poor man (the real rich man) is the one that cherishes things. Interesting how that goes.Yet who, what am I to say of the correction.
Not just going to quote scriptures because the point is moot. Not the one child learning nor the one that is still walking the roads to Paradise, will even be able to understand the depth of it all.
Yet I just stand here. Looking out across the grassy hill before me. Just realizing that peace, I have found. So those moments of black, white and gray are splitting the day. Ready for my nap and the dreams that follow.
Knock and come in if you like, otherwise just fall away. Read and work. And play with the games you need, the frolicking that must be important. Enjoy that.
Good night mon cheri.
Silly I am as the wheels of gray, white and black churn into this tiny filmed projection.This played reel of crushing thoughts reeks havoc over and over into the day. This one step where I just rather be perched than walking.
All night long there was calm. This need to just maintain a focused idea. Then I broke that chain. Releasing curiosity into the environment. Then I just laughed and laughed at the actions proven by grown adults acting as though they were five and twelve. It just sticks in my head as I recall the levels of immaturity that rang from lips not too long ago. Provided their own streaks of madness.
And here it shows that I am actually more on the grown up side than that of others. Yet I can't fault them for finding their childish parts. It is good to see that people of all ages can be between five and twelve. Even more so is that part of life really has more drama than initial inspection. Yet to say so would create a rift.
No thank you.
I had my fair share and would rather leave children to their own ministering.
And though I would like to step up and say something, why should I? My words mean nothing to people much less do they affect anyone. So I just write and write. Not in hopes to proclaim anything, for that isn't my project. I have no need to lay claim on any one person. I have long forgotten how to do that and even a friend isn't worthy of my claims.
So as the morning breaks open the sky with light blues and streaks of golden reds and yellows I am finding that my sighs are knocking more on the doors of sleep than that of caring for anyone. I really did give up on "friends" getting me long ago. I gave up when I was pushed into believing I was an ice queen. Frankly I am not. Just tired, I was, of all the bull manure that was placed around me.
I really don't care about people much anymore. I really don't see the point in trying to be friends with any one person right now. For to do that only forms some sort of attachment and that just isn't worth the time I have here.
Pressing onward into the morning I see that as much as I have the desire to rant over something I just can't see myself getting mad over anything. It is more along the lines of pity and laughter I find myself feeling for those people. It is a bit of cynicism but not in the hateful way. Just realizing how much I tried but I died being something - anything - for someone.
I will leave that for the colorful ones. The ones that have this objective to just keep accepting trinkets and such. Not really getting that a rich man (the real poor man) is an intelligent one and a poor man (the real rich man) is the one that cherishes things. Interesting how that goes.Yet who, what am I to say of the correction.
Not just going to quote scriptures because the point is moot. Not the one child learning nor the one that is still walking the roads to Paradise, will even be able to understand the depth of it all.
Yet I just stand here. Looking out across the grassy hill before me. Just realizing that peace, I have found. So those moments of black, white and gray are splitting the day. Ready for my nap and the dreams that follow.
Knock and come in if you like, otherwise just fall away. Read and work. And play with the games you need, the frolicking that must be important. Enjoy that.
Good night mon cheri.
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