The Universal Restlessness

How much of our strivings are aimed at procuring some point of satiation and safety; how bored we become when we find it…

Messiness and chaos that which we say we hate, yet we nevertheless continue to create in our own lives. It may manifest in peculiar forms, like scrutinizing the true orderliness of things, as if to secretly be searching out chaos. But, why seek this out? Boredom.

If there exists chaos, then there exists an opportunity for work, and, if there exists work, then there exists an opportunity to feel productive. But what if we don’t believe it, or our standards are too high and nothing is ever enough? What then? Then, I suppose is where cultural influences and macroeconomics comes into play, and I am not up for expounding upon those matters today.

Awaiting Discovery Within

Make a mistake.
Go outside with your rake,
Take take take;
It’s time again to placate

Listen to the breeze and let yourself believe that the rustling leaves whisper to you. Allow yourself this one break.

Reason says otherwise, and I surmise that it’s choices which have me temporarily paralyzed. Forget to realize that the leaves aren’t alive?

Atop the fragments float, tethered to nothing – we drift further apart. Do you remember the start? Remember thinking I was so smart? All that’s left now are frozen embers some might call art.

Where does it all go And who really knows? Do the islands that time split apart ever mend back into a continent again?

If the answer is no, would it not be better to pretend?

Defend against the horizon for it brings darkness and takes away our days; Pretend with the sunrise that our spirits will be raised.

Deafen oneself from the beating drum from the ceaseless march of time. Better to say that we are fine than to waste anyone else’s time.