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Mindless monotony. Void, empty. Robbed of meaning. Purposeless. A sunrise for every sunset. “But why?” A query for hope.
Each day. Going through the motions. Mindless motions. Empty skulls. Consciousness left behind. Miles away. Action without thought. The mind in space. Space so full. The far away future. The forgotten past.
Caught up. In the drunken nights. The twisted memories. The careless mistakes. Shame, guilt, remorse. Bitter, incomprehensible demoralization. Unkept promises. Dirty secrets. Shattered dreams. A broken body. A broken heart. A lost spirit.
There is where it resides. There, the mind is found. In the torrid past. Reveling in darkness. Avoiding the light. Sitting amongst the demons. There is comfort in the chaos. Fondness in the familiarity. Stagnancy in the storm.
“But where is the meaning?” Incessant. Repeated. Ritualistic.
The space between breaths. Where reality exists. Only captured by those willing to sit. To hold each moment with loving presence. To stay with each breath, each sound, each scent, each sense. Fleeting. Flowing. Forward.
Because the meaning exists within it. Within the monotony. The subtle changes. The meditative. The mindful. The same but different. Consistent but variable.
Here the peace is found. Here, the meaning. Here, in this moment. Here it is, it’s waiting. It’s beckoning. To be grasped.
But she’s far away. She reaches but her effort falls short. It slips away.
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Each day. Going through the motions. Mindless motions. Empty skulls. Consciousness left behind. Miles away. Action without thought. The mind in space. Space so full. The far away future. The forgotten past.
Caught up. In the drunken nights. The twisted memories. The careless mistakes. Shame, guilt, remorse. Bitter, incomprehensible demoralization. Unkept promises. Dirty secrets. Shattered dreams. A broken body. A broken heart. A lost spirit.
There is where it resides. There, the mind is found. In the torrid past. Reveling in darkness. Avoiding the light. Sitting amongst the demons. There is comfort in the chaos. Fondness in the familiarity. Stagnancy in the storm.
“But where is the meaning?” Incessant. Repeated. Ritualistic.
The space between breaths. Where reality exists. Only captured by those willing to sit. To hold each moment with loving presence. To stay with each breath, each sound, each scent, each sense. Fleeting. Flowing. Forward.
Because the meaning exists within it. Within the monotony. The subtle changes. The meditative. The mindful. The same but different. Consistent but variable.
Here the peace is found. Here, the meaning. Here, in this moment. Here it is, it’s waiting. It’s beckoning. To be grasped.
But she’s far away. She reaches but her effort falls short. It slips away.
More...