Friday, September 30, 2005
Helplessness because it isn't the right path. Something deep troubles me. And the silence deafens me. The daily struggle to find something to focus on. It kills.
The search for music isn't the answer. I can always find music within myself. I can always sing in my mind. I have words of many kinds. No, it isn't the answer.
I need to find something to direct my wandering about, for the greater good. Sounds heroic. But my heart will settle for none the greater, and none the less.
The aspects of the heart and the mind, when allowed to wander, are more powerful, than centuries of independent wisdom and teachings. More treacherous than could be imagined. And when I look back, I have not been careful.
Nor am I careful now.
My God, help me.
Years of suffering is better than bouts of restlessness.
But routine, by its nature, can kill too. How many times have I experienced failure for having rounded the paths so much so that it has tired me of my passions?
Am weak. Am dry. This is troublesome. This is empty. This is depression I have never known. And considering she has been my friend for so many years, this is unrelenting darkness I have not been acquainted with. It surprises me. This is it. The ultimate suffering. I have been unforgiving. I have been cold. I have been stupid. And I have not been careful.
- the careless that i am
by Schulerin 8:15 PM
|
