Did I dream, or did I remember? The faded pictures echo a voice from another distant time and place, a remembrance of another person. It's the beginning of light when the lungs capture their first drawn breath of air, an age of being brought forth unto the present. Interpretation to understanding, the reconciliation of thought and imagination provoke the curiosity of wit and wisdom. Everything is new in the beginning.
Like flashes of brilliance through the verdant abundance there is rationaliazation abound giving birth to the concept of existential being. Questions of the infinite, and the finite overwhelm the sanctity of the soul. The world of wonder and exploration give way to the frantic pace of time and motion. When a child, the necessity for absolute truth is dulled in the fanciful, yet mercifully naive mind of pure innocence. Therein begins the everlasting, almost obligatory search for the dichotomy of man and eternity. In objective wisdom and subjective parables, books being the tool, yet yielding to the deus ex machina. Before we sought only to see the mountain, yet when the time comes, we arrive at the summit only to desire beyond the destinations of our youth. The safety net has been carried away and we are left to walk the line, or fall into uncertain waters where the current is strong.
We interpolate the life song, strumming note after note, until the chord is hit with a resounding melody. It is the zeal of the first quartile of the journey, scores beyond the meek and frightened boy, the intrepid has gone fully solo. Into the great wide expanse of the creation I am compelled, propelled, drawn into, cast out, where will I find my landing place? Yearning to be here, desire to be there, to whom do I have and how do I become completely redefined beyond the selfish realm of me? Found, or so hoped, the forward motion comes to a halt. The quest and the path of longsuffering, perserverence, and doubt take their toll on the weary mind of the wounded traveler. The wanderlust and restlessness has settled and into the domesticated void of certain uncertainty. It's been figured out, balanced, and you are now answering the questions you once asked in non hesitant fashion to those you envisioned complete wisdom. The taxing cynicism and stress of the grind is lifted and quenched by knowing the job is done. But, the question remains. I searched to find it, believed it to be found, and now the last remaining traces of a life before the age of accountability are all but rendered motionless.
The weight beared by it all wilts the knees to place of stillness. Life is moving forward, your legacy enshrined in the marriage of trust,loyalty, and provisions of your kin. But, there in lies the providential loss for explantion and rational. Why like the myriad now and before does must cyclical chorus be repeated and echoed. The energy is ceasing, the body tired. All that you have cultivated has moved on, there is nothing that yet remains but the loud thoughts in a captive mind. The world has collapsed to the palm of your hand in which all your hopes and unfufilled dreams reside. The crowded corridors have locked you into a passive lull,thirsting for the days of forgotten vigor and reckless abandon. Open the door,the dusty age of loneliness and silence shaken off for the a second breath of air. Into the light, the sun is uncloaked in as she pierces the mist of the ocean tide. All that remains and all you have is in your mind, no hand may grasp, no ear may hear the utterance of the voices you once cherished. White surrounds, flashback to flash forward, in eternity reconciled. Did I dream? The hour glass has emptied.
