Of greatness and the wasted possibilities
A person can loose himself in the vastness of possibilities, yet in the end the lack of action merely confirms what one knew all along – risking the effort without success almost always outweighs the lack of action…in effort, in disappointment.
And of course it is not a secret, often the desire to create for the purpose of greatness looms in the early morning hours (like a pregnant cloud full of moisture yet lacking the proper current of cold or warm front to relief its heavy burden) it seeps through the early seconds of the day, it nudges its way through moments before and after the sipping of the lukewarm coffee, it lingers in the air , then slowly dissipates leaving the fait sent of something that could have been but would never be.
Follows one more sip of the coffee, one more braking news - scrolled over during the endless moments of boredom now stringing from the wire between one event and then another and another, one more check of the empty e-mail box, and suddenly desire comes again, a bit less enticing this time, with the same sense of a second drag on a cigarette, less intense, still desirable, but now almost perceived as a lost cause and only regarded as a nice, lovely thought that could have, that should have, but would not…
Other thoughts now take advantage of the neuronal paved highway. With the approach of 9AM the body awakens to the all too natural, all too biological need that has been neglected since the very early waking hours. ‘Relief’ screams the bladder, ‘Air’ reminisce the lungs, ‘More Coffee’ thinks the man as he heads over to the kitchen for another cup of refreshing wakefulness, of false rejuvenation from a liquid squeezed from the beans of a plant which not too long shared the same sunlight with another (more potent, illegal and forbidden).
And so the day proceeds, with its ups and downs, with its ins and outs, with lacks of the desirable and abundance of the unpleasant and even more of the peculiar until the evening’s arrival when several questionable (one would even think unadvisable) yet pleasant events cloud the mind for however brief a moment before night overtakes the senses, wrestles down the weary body, conquers the ability to remember who the person is, was...
Then greatness changes shape and color and clothes, and comes back, this time in dreams. It teases and taunts, excites, hardens and softens certain members, licks and slaps, loves and hates, and cries, and laughs until the Earth completes its circle.
And again the Sun dispenses with the night like a client with the woman of questionable virtues. Greatness retracts back from the scene, lacking time to even take a shower before slipping into a new costume and hitting the mind hard yet again.
Another cup of coffee, another wasted day, and so spins the circle of wasted possibilities, of what one calls life and another hell, and yet another ‘a gift from God’.
And of course it is not a secret, often the desire to create for the purpose of greatness looms in the early morning hours (like a pregnant cloud full of moisture yet lacking the proper current of cold or warm front to relief its heavy burden) it seeps through the early seconds of the day, it nudges its way through moments before and after the sipping of the lukewarm coffee, it lingers in the air , then slowly dissipates leaving the fait sent of something that could have been but would never be.
Follows one more sip of the coffee, one more braking news - scrolled over during the endless moments of boredom now stringing from the wire between one event and then another and another, one more check of the empty e-mail box, and suddenly desire comes again, a bit less enticing this time, with the same sense of a second drag on a cigarette, less intense, still desirable, but now almost perceived as a lost cause and only regarded as a nice, lovely thought that could have, that should have, but would not…
Other thoughts now take advantage of the neuronal paved highway. With the approach of 9AM the body awakens to the all too natural, all too biological need that has been neglected since the very early waking hours. ‘Relief’ screams the bladder, ‘Air’ reminisce the lungs, ‘More Coffee’ thinks the man as he heads over to the kitchen for another cup of refreshing wakefulness, of false rejuvenation from a liquid squeezed from the beans of a plant which not too long shared the same sunlight with another (more potent, illegal and forbidden).
And so the day proceeds, with its ups and downs, with its ins and outs, with lacks of the desirable and abundance of the unpleasant and even more of the peculiar until the evening’s arrival when several questionable (one would even think unadvisable) yet pleasant events cloud the mind for however brief a moment before night overtakes the senses, wrestles down the weary body, conquers the ability to remember who the person is, was...
Then greatness changes shape and color and clothes, and comes back, this time in dreams. It teases and taunts, excites, hardens and softens certain members, licks and slaps, loves and hates, and cries, and laughs until the Earth completes its circle.
And again the Sun dispenses with the night like a client with the woman of questionable virtues. Greatness retracts back from the scene, lacking time to even take a shower before slipping into a new costume and hitting the mind hard yet again.
Another cup of coffee, another wasted day, and so spins the circle of wasted possibilities, of what one calls life and another hell, and yet another ‘a gift from God’.
posted by Simon Cleveland @ 9:33 AM
0 comments
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home