Existential Reckonings

The results of toil, they say. I repost, "Whereas, fruitless labors result in beauty? You say lie for the sematics of ad infinitum." Hark back to the forgotten realm; ere time begot labors and whim; sans definition, but rather mere existential reckonings. I say, "respond but to whom I beackon, to mean realmless attitudes. To forget mundane liabilities; to be left without umbrage, is inspiration veiled in potential. I am, whom I wish to be, hence no realities, only the weaves of desire and personal serenity, ere nigh an inspiration exhaust, where another begots from the ashes. It is to emanate realities, but played in a field of impossibilities. There abound to a plane of residual perfection; skirting the countless vibrations, multiplying ergo asundering, henceforth synonymous. It is amusing upon how one can fantasize the existless; the blanche scape. I suppose the time spent amongst responsibilites conjures ghastly visages of what one expects to be, only to do in vain and destitution. At this, he is doomed to wander as such upon the prism, only to press and lament what could not be. I realize this, but I still dwell in the forlorn.

Giants Among Rock

Grey shield ascending
pristine locked forever
yearlings unhindered

Sea, oh my Sea

And I could stare for hours
at that rhythmic bastion,
forever capturing my gaze,
as if its reach was just to get at me

And I stand up, nodding in reverence,
gently dismissing my attention,
As I walk beneath castles of stone,
long defeated

And I often wonder:
What happened to the marvel of the tide?

Grace

The grace of humanity is often ill-recognized due to dark aspects of our nature. But, Have we forgotten the grace we have wrought upon this earth? Do we deny the great works of skill and beauty, forged? I hope not, for I see greater potential in humanity to commit acts of righteousness and benevolence, rather than be enveloped in the fires of evil.

/end random muse. How rhetorical is this comment...