Angels losing sleepTitles are important aspects of writings. It gives it the life that either it deserves, or fails to attain. Titles are essential, providing simple yet powerful restrictions on one's writing, the very singular strand of inspiration starting just from that words. It might mean nothing, but you subconciously think about what to write that will somehow fit the title that you have given to your invisible text. Somehow, i feel like i am trying to compete with myself, with the previous self, the lyrical genius that i used to have written. The confidence i seem to have in my writing seemed to have been blown by the winds of time, made into powder by mortars carried by the clouds of my happiness, and buried under stones of judgement, never to be revealed. But like the impossible will become the possible as the ironic time lends restoration, the single thing that have stopped my words, have created a torrent of rage and angst that is built upon not unstable walls of truth, but powerful, unshakable pillars of your own belief in yourself.Of tiny feelings drawn on the walls of the pillars in the sky, you take a small slow descent into the makeshift building of your heart. The signs of the magical road breaking up slowly as you shifted quickly into the second gear. Believe. It's the only thing you can do as you slowly open the door on that white emptiness. Breathe in. You can no longer wait anymore. The patience has been dripping like an invitro injection, away from you, and into the swirl of time that everyone contributes. Breathe out. Pull. You once remebered that the speed of the cheetah is the faster ever on the lands of nature. You once remembered that the peregine falcon is the fastest diver in the Airs of Creation. You once remembered that the swordfish is the fastest swimmer in all of the Oceans of the Universe. I guess you never once imagine another. Like thunder, lightning, the rage of the wind broke your concentration, and the door flew open, the spliters of the wood flying in directions only Angels can ever comprehend. But you are a mere human. Made of flesh, and given the world. What will you do when the world comes crashing onto you. What will you do, when this waterfall of confusion starts of drown out your logic, and rationality? Nothing. Those are just big words. They dont scare me. They dont. They Dont. So believe you do, and against the current you go, salmons in the torrents, sadine fishes against all odds. You push like a child not knowing his own strength, yet based his power on his ignorance of the world, and the innocence lends you the might. You pushed against the endless circles of life, you pushes against all streotype, you pushed against them. And you continue. ..... Bah. Sometimes, i fail. I dont even understand what the heck i am talking about. Talk about crap talk. I am just merely trying to make my words sounds poetic, yet beneath them, there isnt a story worth telling. There isnt an experience worth the conversion. Its just a mere experiment with words. A failed experiment with words. But try i did, and perfection is just a mere stepping stone away. Its only when i step and place my foot on the correct stepping stone then will i only attain that elusiveness. Now which is the one that i should step? Justin ranted at 12:32:00 pm on the |