Life's Truth

Life goes on slowly moving super fast
It waits for none never slowing
On and on
Over under and through
Before to long all has gone
Alone for good
Peace wont know
For if time stops all is lost
Sadness comes for all to see
Yet meaning can not be found
No rhyme, no reason
But simply living
Tis all any man can do

Dolphins?

Sometimes I find myself wondering what the point is. Not in a suicidal I don't want to exist kind of way, but in a Ok, so now what way. It's weird. I have always believed that the most important thing is knowledge, and with knowledge comes happiness and fulfillment. But sometimes, I'm just not sure. I mean really, what is the point of Life? Why are we here? If there is a god, and I am unsure what I believe on that subject, why did he create us? It can't be to serve him, because really, what would be the point of that? I find it hard to believe that a being so powerful has the need for us to serve it. Maybe it is because it was bored. That would make sense. It was bored so it created something to relive it's boredom. But in that case, we return to the previous question of now what. As far as we know, we exist, this world is real and everything that happens in it is in fact happening. But why? What are we supposed to do about it. Why do we do what we do?

Okay, so maybe we are meant to be happy. But first of all, what does that mean? What is happiness? What does it feel like, how do we achieve it, and to what end? I guess that's what it all boils down to really. What is the point. We work so hard to make money, or find someone to love, or amuse our selves, but for what? What happens when we die? Does the world just stop? Do we just cease to exist, or is there something more? Some sort of after life where everything is explained and things will make sense.

That's another thing I often wonder about. What would it be like to not exist? How would the world be different, what would it feel like? I know that in Judaism, as well in other religions and cultures, there is a belief of an after life. A heaven. A something after we die. In Judaism, that something is, well, there is no clear description of what it is. It is Gan Eden, the Garden of Eden. It is said that we will return there and walk amongst god. Ok, fine. Then what? It is also said that our souls will return to sit at G-ds thrown. In Ancient Egypt the after life, called Duat, is just like the current life, but better. Better in that the crops always grow, things are constant and unchanging, or something like that. I don't know. I mean, why? What is the point?

It's odd I think that I think of things like this. I mean, sure it's normal to wonder about whats next, I guess, but...I don't know. It's not just the after life, and the point of it all that I wonder about though. I wonder about really odd things. Things that, when I realize I wonder about them, really scare me. It's not the things them selves that scare me, but that I wonder about them. I've found myself wondering things like what it would be like to die, to cut, to murder, to smoke, do drugs, be raped, and many other such things that should never happen. It scares me that I wonder about these things. And even more that I have done so since as long as I can remember. Maybe it's that I am depressed, or manic, or insane, or whatever, but I don't know, it's not normal, right? And even if it is, it's still scary.

Then again, I also wonder about other things. Like what it would be like to be a tree, or a rock, or a bird, or cat, or a shelf, or a newspaper. I guess what the main thing I wonder about is consciousness and sentience. What is it? What does it mean to have/be it? What would I be if I did not?

Stagnent Change

Disease and destruction
Desire for change
Young hearts burning
With unbridled flame
Long endless nights
Suns burning bright
Always forever
Shinning through night
Again for eternity
Flying through time

Self Unknown

The façade is there, beliefs unsure
What is seen, the thing that's shown
Truth to all, myself unknown
Compare contrast
Je ne sais pas
That one smile, so early on
Open truths, slightly hidden
For fear of knowing

Life goes on

Ever Onward

Twelve long years
And then four more
Time that was was wasted
Unused, never shown
The deep seeded joys
Of silly songs sung
Gone from the now
No longer real.

Never Alone

In the dark I sit alone
Awash in the cheery blue glow
Friends smile and grin.

Oblivious.

Winter Visions

Outside the snow is drifting lazily down like, well, like snow really. It twirls and spins around almost but not quite like a tornado, and when it finally falls, it does so at an angle. It coats the ground and the trees, everything in its path, nothing is spared its bitter cold torture. Inside it is warmer, but still a bit nippy. The sweet scent of ocean breeze drifts up to my nose from the candle on the desk. It surrounds me and brings forth images. Rushing waves and breaking tides. Children running and splashing as the sand castles fall prey to the tides’ siege. A shame that the image in my mind disappears with just a turn of my head, as I again look out the window. The snow has its own beauty, though it freezes us to the bone. It is often a symbol for death and the end, and yet, it brings with it new life. The tracks of a bunny are just barely visible from my vantage point here in my room. I image it is quite cold out there, but its fur must give it some warmth.
A car drives past, its motor breaking the near silence. The candle’s flame has burnt out and now the room smells slightly of smoke. It is a peaceful and calming scent. After a time the smell tickles my nose. It is a strange feeling, that of smoke in your nose. Not quite painful, and yet not pleasant. It is odd, that.
Outside the snow has stopped, but the sky remains grey and gloomy. It is as if a large hand has covered the sun, and only small bits filter through to warm the hearts of us poor inhabitants. It seems at times that winter will last forever, though we know in our hearts that it must at sometime come to an end. Alas, such is the way of the world, that hard times seem to last an eternity, and yet those happy and pleasurable moments last but an instant, always fleeting and far between. Why is it that the happy times seem so hard to remember in detail?
The setting sun changes the sky from a gloomy grey to a deep blue, and then black. It is so dark that even the stars do not shine through. I’m sure that were I in a position to see it, the moon too would elude me.
The sounds of Bach’s musical genius now float through my room, bringing with them more images of life. It is a sweet sound, and in conjunction with the dissipating scent of the ocean, very calming. Bach is like a waltz, slow and calming. I can just picture Victorian era women in their wonderfully fashionable gowns gently gliding across the ballroom floor under a large glowing chandelier at some fancy party, to which only the elite are invited.