flickers beneath eyelids dreamspun but not dreamt


life’s never-ending demands…… pushing….. tugging….. pulling… a contestation of wills, unending…. beating you down…. pressing…. the weight.. and in those moments we wither beaten down by the harshness of sun, hungry, thirsty but even after that.. the rains will come, new life, spring and we remember the hardship, the silence, the death or …..we are long dead, ground to dust, echoes of long forgotten memory.

hmm,  a penchant for melodrama only gets you so far, far enough to recognise yourself as a fool , so far to laugh at oneself, and even in the face of this cheerless realisation there is no fool quite like the fool who knows he is a fool. maybe talent abides, somewhere…

there are many things I want to be  if I could only ever get the nudge, the push. the will is there but there is no strength, no desperation, no fear. Desperation is what drives the chase, the desperate need to be heard,  to feel, to leave a mark. Ambition is merely desperation in sheep’s clothing. what truly moves man is fear, and his response is not hope.. despair… courage; merely pale imitations of something greater, but desperation, for it makes even the weak titans.

and when he is born in the darkness, when sleep slows, brims underneath  eyelids, before the embrace, here now flows ideas, concepts , truth. but is it really truth, truth that can be examined in the harshness of daylight? will I wish to hear it, to see it? will I see it for what it is? truth, only the ramblings of a sleepless man.


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