It is now 9th May 2012.
It is 6:03 in the evening.
The
sky is in an unforgiving shade of gloomy, punctuated by flashes of
lightning. The thunderstorm rumbles, the rain chills and carries the
emptiness of the heart. Maybe it is a precursor for things to come. I
thrive on the uncertainties of life, the 25
little frames of opportunities that flashes by the second. 25fps and flash, a strings of images and a video attempts to record that fleetingness and that uncertainty.
It is 11:35 in the night now.
It is 11:35 in the night now.
(5 hours into the future) 20
minutes into the future, 6:23, or was it 20 minutes back into the past?
The chilling cold envelops. Frozen, the stillness of the moment ceases
to exist, momentarily. Ironically, my desire to live and love life is
met with catastrophe.
As much as I love life's uncertainty, I dread impending Time - the rush of uncertainty that comes with accelerating time. I dread accelerating time because time is never enough. With time, you are supposed to evolve and grow as a person - as a hero. I desire to say that I have grew in terms of skills and in terms of my mind but I am affright with the terrible notion that I did not and I am only temporarily deluding myself into the crafted image I visualized. In retrospect, who is to say that all heroes on journeys and quests gain something purposeful and meaningful from their quests even if they strayed from their main quest. Sir Perceval never found the Holy Grail. His drawn, arduous and painful quests of growing up died with the unfinished medium. Fulfilment did not belong to an uncompleted adventure and his was a tale of existentialism - failed.
I fear the meaningless passing of time and so I wish for a brevity of life to be punctuated, to be eternally contained. We are the generation of dream, shattered ideals and illusions and We are the sands trapped in an hour glass. As I crave to live in my own hour glass, to live in the expansively deafening bubble, the traffic roars with fierce dignity. The brevity is lost. And thoughts slip out of the edges of my soft buttery, impressionable mind. My mind melts like butter slathered on toast during a hot, sweaty day. Crumbs, toasts and butter.
I am a blank slate. 11:56. I defy you, I challenge the physics of your mind. I challenge the law of your physics.
As much as I love life's uncertainty, I dread impending Time - the rush of uncertainty that comes with accelerating time. I dread accelerating time because time is never enough. With time, you are supposed to evolve and grow as a person - as a hero. I desire to say that I have grew in terms of skills and in terms of my mind but I am affright with the terrible notion that I did not and I am only temporarily deluding myself into the crafted image I visualized. In retrospect, who is to say that all heroes on journeys and quests gain something purposeful and meaningful from their quests even if they strayed from their main quest. Sir Perceval never found the Holy Grail. His drawn, arduous and painful quests of growing up died with the unfinished medium. Fulfilment did not belong to an uncompleted adventure and his was a tale of existentialism - failed.
I fear the meaningless passing of time and so I wish for a brevity of life to be punctuated, to be eternally contained. We are the generation of dream, shattered ideals and illusions and We are the sands trapped in an hour glass. As I crave to live in my own hour glass, to live in the expansively deafening bubble, the traffic roars with fierce dignity. The brevity is lost. And thoughts slip out of the edges of my soft buttery, impressionable mind. My mind melts like butter slathered on toast during a hot, sweaty day. Crumbs, toasts and butter.
I am a blank slate. 11:56. I defy you, I challenge the physics of your mind. I challenge the law of your physics.
No comments:
Post a Comment