on existing-

at some point in time it all gets easier; the pain resides and a stillness of eternal peace falls. no longer are you alone, but are in fact confronted by your very own existence- a striking realization it is to be known by your own being. to grasp the hand of humanity by merely looking into a reflection of- of your own humanity.

i wonder what it feels like for the trees as they stand bare in the beginning of winter, as the leaves fall from the limbs of their very self. i bet the trees feel so empty, so useless. we of course know their purpose; we know their very existence gives us life and life again. we breathe in their production and stand in awe of their beauty (or we should). but a tree, it knows not what it's meant for.

i often contemplate how much one can actually know their own purpose. each day goes by leading into the next; soon the days begin to run into each other and- and we're the same. or so it feels. there's that guttural feeling which builds up inside- like right now as i write- as you reflect on the little change that is occurring.

change.

that's it, that's what we're all after; isn't it? change is something i know all too well, yet now- now when i crave it most- nothing.


i get nothing but a cycle of infinite dead ends.