Perhaps it is easy to say that I failed.
How long ago was this goal set? How neglectful have I been in my own search for clarity of mind, of raw experience, of memories? How naive I must seem, to believe that I could rise up to their levels. Where are those few mad individuals, those patient and insightful few? Indeed, where are those few good men left? Not a day goes by without me thinking of them. So lonesome and distant, bound together by shared isolation, shared experience.
Today, for the first time in a long while, I took a moment to reflect as the wind blew so quietly and my front yard being a front seat to such stillness. Nothing to do but exist, breathe, and live. My first thought came and all I could see was their faces, so young and happy that the decade dare not touch them. I tried to drift away and only more came. How could they look so happy as this world turns and slowly sighs? I wanted an answer and they simply stood there before me, no wisdom dispersed, no encouragement, no greeting. Nothing. My heart ached.
Why come now? Where were you when I stopped? Where were you when I forgot? I needed a push. I needed a reminder. Why are you all there, leaving me here? Why can't you come back and remind me what it's like to know your presence? How can you stay so blissfully ignorant or blissfully silent?
How?
We were supposed to stay blissfully aware of everything. Together
Or perhaps it's easier to say I failed.
Failed in remembering you
So it hurts remembering now
Such is the way of the forgetful
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Days of my life
Anything I find interesting to write about so that I may grow.
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