explanation

this is not art.. indecision

nor is it a start… uncertainty about my abilities to go anywhere with writing

or a glimpse into anything of consequence… self criticism

shallow thoughts from a lost soul…self deprecation/doubt

cascading from a mind…. erratic poetic thoughts

completely out of sync with sequence….what I’ve yet to harness, illness

frequently reading…..my vehicle towards truth

words misleading…or are they

to an abrubt conclusion
that life is merely an optical illusion…these two lines have many meanings, the perils of materialism, why one shouldn’t hesitate in chasing their dreams, the beauty within everyday life

distracted by fiery passions of a fleeting youth… ironically this could be expanded, in my case, to an entire novel as one sometimes need to search beyond the surface of their misconceptions

perpetually chasing ends to make amends……the path towards happiness is not easy and can involve incessant repeating of untying and tying, tying and untying, running and jumping and stepping back to marvel at the confusion

stumbling towards the inevitable……I call it stumbling as I’m destined to do if I have no grasp on spirit and only on mind and body

inevitably destined to discover truth…unless of course life leads towards an understanding of its meaning