People say time heals. Does it? Time passes. The passing of a loved one is tough, let alone two at a go. I never understood the dimension and depth of things till it happened.
It is taking longer than time can pace for the jolt of life to set my senses up and going. I am a livewire of some sort. One moment I perceive reality, the next I submit to the sublime. Why so? Acceptance is hardwork. Unknown to many, I am still mourning.
All of a sudden, the living seem to be a dull grey, flashing across my half-shut mind. If all things are in equilibrium with Time, then I must be off-tangent. My alignment with the "now" seem surreal. Often times I sit and wonder. Where has it all gone?
The wandering spirit is a restless one. Not knowing where it begins and ends, life drifts on. This floaty syndrome lulls away; ebbs at our heart-string, tugging, tugging, as if to say enough, quite enough.
When things abide by trimmings of the day settle down to pace boredom at bay, things sometimes look up. But often times, the seasonings of pain can rob one of intention and purpose.
What is passion? Living on with a missionary purpose in reaching out to build life. These days I am much reduced to residues called Commitment. Fuelled by commitment does not quite get me places and it bears down the intrinsic joys of giving. In giving with heart, it is called work. In working on giving, it is named Passion. Which of them am I running on?
I often think of life as a forbidden race. A race no one else is allowed to finish for you even if you try to fool the judges with a threesome to make it look like a relay. Its treacherous path can belay even the champ of champs. Brought up to believe its the run -of-destiny, every soul just grips their baton and make headon to the finish line, not at all peeved at being deceived with a broken trophy. Is life still there?
I don't really care, do you?
