There is so much to say,
So much to see;
So much that sometimes everything
Language becomes cumbersome
Eating laborious and emetic;
Around family and friends you feel
out of place and superfluous,
Almost gagging on anxiety if
conversation floats your way;
Unfiltered thoughts overcrowd your mind,
thieving every ounce of your concentration;
Darkness fills your soul,
and it aches with every breath.
But then, one day,
after perhaps many difficult ones;
The sun rises and shines through the window
with the iridescence that only the sun can;
The birds sing their sweet sweet song,
inviting your ear drums to beat in alignment with all living things;
You find a pen in your hand again,
scribbling and scrawling your now interpretable thoughts;
Your shoulders, which were stooped, are now straight and
you stand tall in the stiff breeze, dreaming of possibilities.
Your alliance rekindled
with this enigmatic thing
when words become flat,
their definitions frail or forgotten
they blur and mingle with each other,
like a cluster of long-legged spiders making love
no longer a block of text to be interpreted or understood,
but an illustration triggering loose and fleeting thoughts
thoughts uncoordinated and fatuous,
but there they are
Woke up this morning with that kinda existential dread you feel, you know, when you wake up in the morning.
I stare upon the stars,
In awe of their gleaming wonder;
And they back at me from their
distant but eloquent vantage point.
They gaze from the perspective of true infinity;
And I from the tiny piece of the infinte my consciousness allows.
If we listened for long enough,
With the correct volume of concentration;
Perhaps we would grasp a slice of the knowledge
Needed to calm our ever frantic minds.
Grab hold of some greater truth;
A truth so great and so true
It would grant us genuine happiness.
The kind of happiness only someone in their twenties can believe exists.
Real freedom from the constraints of the mind.
What is required for this assignment however,
Is impossible to obtain.
There is a restriction on this biological blob of atoms we call the body;
A restriction placed upon it from the moment it was spawned.
This restriction is Time.
— The End —