Old As The Sun But Ageless

Good things come to those who wait. To those who seldom need to ask of others. Good things come in the nick of time and often in disguise. So don't fret my friend, your good thing is in transit and will arrive just when you think it's too late. The idea that something can be too late is a little absurd to me. Perhaps because my concept of time is that of an awesome lemniscate and it is only your false need that make the situation finite. The universe does not set a deadline, does not give you an ultimatum. Time is giving and time is patient. Time will survive your petty desires long enough to make you feel foolish.

It's not often that I will readily think of humans as absolute individuals. You could argue this point and I might even entertain the idea. Still, the more dominate side of me wants to maintain the image of a collective consciousness. Like time, bodies climb the corporeal peak before decay settles and the dissolution of our chemical cogs into availability provide necessary components to allow the rise of new molecules. We'd like to think we are unique but in truth we are composed of nothing but second-hand-gently-used-periodic-elements.

This infinite loop plays like a tape: you are but a speck of debris on a grain of sand, but those things you feel, the thoughts you think - are ever so deep and endless. You'd think no one else in existence could fathom this instance, this personal investment. No one could understand it and this loneliness in the depth of your own emotion makes you feel singular. It becomes another reality. Within myself I can find an eternity to occupy me, which I suppose is complimentary to this insignificant reality.

It's a daily practice to remind myself that I am nothing special, which is just my mechanism to free myself of inherent selfishness. I catch far too many people using their conscious or subconscious feelings as excuses and I will not be among them. My dreams, my love, my sadness, my pain will one day dissolve into the pattern and nothing I have done with this life will survive longer than a few cycles. Inventions in idol minds serves only to extend the links in this ball and chain we all share. How can we reach the surface of true understanding if we're anchored to a sinking ship? So for the transient good of all Earthlings, I suffer for your sake. For there will come a time when I am able to relieve some of that weight from your shoulders so that you may enjoy the remainder of what's in that hour glass.

Little fly,

Thy summer's play

My thoughtless hand

Has brushed away.

Am not I

A fly like thee?

Or art not thou

A man like me?

For I dance

And drink and sing,

Till some blind hand

Shall brush my wing.

- William Blake

Songs of experience

"The Fly," Stanzas 1-3

(1795)