Here I stand on the 108th parallel,
the bridge between sanity and belief,
a train station situated between the hectic and the inane,
around me stands a group of strangers.

Some of us are good looking,
some are intelligent,
some are both,
all are worthwhile.

Some are talented,
some are prodigies,
some will change the world,
all will succeed and all will fail.

Some are believers,
some are confused,
some will blaze trails,
others looking to them for direction,
all will eventually find their way.

Some will teach from the pulpit,
some from the altar,
and still others from the streets,
all will make a difference in his eyes.

Some of us will live happier ever after,
some will fight depression,
others will struggle with anxiety,
and in truth,
all are loved.

And so here I stand,
on the 108th parallel,
surrounded by friends,
in a place that we may one day forget,
but in the end,
when all is said and done,
the remnants will remain,
although the stitches holding us together are often unseen.

The most dangerous man in world,
is someone who can think for them-self,
to think freely is to sharpen your blade,
and strike at authority with a razor, barbed with logic,
and even further the danger rises when man is set free,
those who are cunning,
with clarity of mind, are not to be trifled with,
those aware of their super-ego,
those who are willing to die for their beliefs,
they are strong,
they are fierce,
fearsome agents of agency's agenda,
criticism split with momentum,
and even if the free thinker is not invested,
he will surely inspire others.

The bible teaches that we are sheep,
simple extensions meant to be herded,
but somehow I feel this is not true,
man's native disposition is not gentle,
it is raw, it is powerful, and it is cruel,
we are social creatures,
we huddle together for warmth just as sheep,
but we are not sheep,
we are wolves,
cunning and calculating,
why else do we **** and maim our own,
but for own entertainment,
our own gain?

However,
we are also extremely adaptive,
and so I say,
if you are sheep be sheep,
but if you are wolves be wolves,
re-purpose your fangs,
structure the pack and do not hide,
fight back against indignation,
guard your brothers and sisters,
keep watch through the night,
and when the time comes I say strike,
tear out the throat of inequality,
and let the lifeblood of the sickly fruit flow,
and pour it into the streets.

An idea is given shape through will,
and if this is true,
then what is the human will?
Is it a product of imagination,
a chemical reaction,
an electric impulse,
or perhaps something more?
There is something out there,
beyond the horizons of shape and form,
there are things that we cannot touch,
things we cannot taste,
things that we can sense,
but can never quantify,
we are more aware of this when we are young,
there is mystery round about us,
and as we age,
we forget that there are things we do not understand,
things we cannot smell,
things we cannot see,
too acute for the eye.
Thoughts can shape the future,
for what is the future but a collective motive,
an understanding born of sentiment observation,
I feel in my bones that thoughts are powerful,
they create and destroy,
and often unconscious thoughts are the most influential,
dreams unspoken are just as real.

When looking around at the observed,
I cannot help but cry,
the observed world is a cruel place,
the observed cruelty,
the observed frailty,
the observed is not whole,
and so I ask,
how can this be?
How can it be that such a world exists without reprieve,
how can entropy have such hold?
And so I think to myself,
there must be something more,
life cannot simply exist to die.

This is why I believe in abstractions,
notions far beyond cracked understanding,
because sometimes flecks of truth fall through.

I often find that the people I know are polarized,
they range from,
positive to negative,
you have your optimists,
your idealists,
your cynics,
your nihilists,
and oddly enough,
everyone else.

Optimists believe in Hamilton's Principle,
but they tailor it to our own fabric,
they believe that for some unknown reason,
the current situation is the optimal one,
everything will be alright,
que sera sera,
carpe diem.

Idealists believe in truth,
they understand what is ideal,
and what is not,
they attempt to apply such principles to the observed world,
and more often than not,
they fail,
but that's alright,
they tried their best.

Cynics view the world as it is,
they observe and make rational judgement,
realism at its finest,
a time tested trait,
pragmatism has served them well.

Nihilists believe that life is without intrinsic meaning,
there is nothing that cannot be observed,
a craft of existentialist theory,
they assert that morality is a figment of mankind's imagination,
and for all we know,
they could be right.

And finally we have the remainder,
those of us we have no idea what we believe,
no path traced in the sand,
no trail blazed in the years prior,
and sometimes I think that perhaps this group is right,
there are limits to human understanding,
and so I ask,
how can we know,
oh,
how can we know?

From the time we are born,
we are flawed,
both through nurture and through nature are we damaged,
but there is something so beautiful,
so fatalistic about that,
and since we are inclined to failure,
the only way we can travel is forward.
Sometimes we move only a few steps at a time,
and more often than not,
we measure improvement by leaps and bounds,
both are progress,
both are important.

We like to think we are rational,
but statistically speaking,
we trust in our instinct more often than not,
even if it is beyond its depth,
we are not rational creatures,
striving for excess is not logical,
for time is money,
and survival is logical,
but we want more,
gathering approval is not efficient,
in many respects animals are much more optimal.

The thing that sets us apart,
the most important thing to note,
is love,
love is not logical,
love is not efficient,
but we value it anyway,
and so in the end,
we are not what we think we are,
we are not animals,
we are illogical,
we are inefficient,
and we are healing,
healing from the day we are born,
born with a frail disposition,
we are human,
and we are slowly mending.

There is a dilemma that develops,
a problem that hits every day without fail,
it happens when I think too often,
for thought is the death of faith,
and faith is the bane of logic.

How can I reconcile my heart and mind?

If this,
then what?
If this is that,
and this is that,
then what is the origin?
If you're me,
then who am I?
What is the point,
if the point is the point,
then does it matter?

I believe that truth is relative.

Absolutism is absolute because of shared meaning,
and this meaning is only absolute because we perceive it to be this way,
and therefore there is no such thing as absolutism,
irony is not irony if we expect the opposite of what is expected.

The world may be absurd,
it may have no meaning,
but that is merely a matter of perspective.
Why do humans give?
Why do we help one another?
Do we do it to make ourselves feel better about life?
So what?
If it all has no meaning anyway,
why not give, take and accept?
Why not twist logic and play along?

Why do we search for happiness?
We search for it for the simple fact that it feels good,
and if happiness is our end goal,
then why not deceive ourselves?
Lie,
deceive,
and distract,
for truth told with malice is still a lie,
and so trod the path to happiness,
for it is paved with self delusion,
lie and choose to believe in something abstract,
for perhaps in the end,
if you tell enough lies,
you create your own truth,
and truthfully I'd rather be play the part of a fool,
than right and hopelessly miserable.