Long ago, I closed my eyes with the warm sun on my face And I dreamed of finding more of myself beyond this place So I set out on a journey that would take most of my life I searched every path but fumbled back when met with strife Each turn and new horizon just a mirage of hope that faded The day brought less resolve; the nights despair invaded My foolishness deluded me and priceless years it stole Until I was left with nothing in a wasteland of my soul Who am I beyond these mazes? I thought I could be more. Now standing here, I see tracks of the lives that went before. We are all the same; life ends with a breath just as it starts So I closed my eyes and understood... I am no more beyond my heart
Pride and greed along with a myriad of futile pursuits lead us away from the simple yet solid core of who we are. These cheap things and false ideas distract us from what is truly meaningful and keep us from experiencing happiness, contentment, and peace.
For the last four months, the gears usually churning in my head have halted to an eerie stop. I can't recall anything passed and I can't think of anything new. Dust accumulated on gears big and small making them appear certainly abandoned. It was joined by cobwebs and the spiders who willed them into existence. If I concentrate hard enough I'm sure I will feel them crawling around looking for any sign of life or sustenance. Perhaps these poor creatures are out of luck. I think next, the rust will start to form, and then I will really be in trouble. It will corrode every last piece of metal and take no regard for the way it destroys me. Slowly, the gears will turn orange, and then brown, and then they will cease to exist at all. And that is when I will truly be a lost cause. I guess in a way I'm only getting what I’ve always wanted: for the gears to take a break, to stop churning so mercilessly all the time, to stop working countless possibilities over and over and over again. The most futile effort I’ve ever known. When the gears fall, I think I will be normal. Finally, in correspondence with the people I see around me, I will be just the same. Feigning happiness will not be required, because maybe I will just feel it.
What you're discovering now I've lived that years ago. Things you thought were impossible I've seen it a long time coming. All that was, called crazy, Now everything's plain stupidity! Surrounded by futile mind, Have I become one of them? Or am I still crazy?