Why when I should be working on my book am I spending time staring at that blinking cursor? I feel like writing however I need to ramble a little first.
Complexity in simplicity, life in a breath. Shame and regret. Words without meaning, choking stumbling on them like a crack in the sidewalk. Ice spills over and under my skin illuminating veins, the flow slows. Taxed and depleted hated and abandoned. So many times we view without seeing passing by the beauty that surrounds us. The rotation of the fan blade marks another missed opportunity; a moment encapsulated in time yet forever forgotten Doing well to divert our attention from truth. The space between a blink and a tear.
We are not lost we are the guiding light, the first born great hope, a splash of shade in July. We mark the turning of a page and the beginning of an era. Carried on our backs the procrastination's and mistakes of our forefathers we nourish their albatross refusing to deliver it's disposition upon our successors. Indifference an abomination. Stand tall. Speak the truth. Expect the utmost of yourself and those you surround yourself with and failure will never find you.
