Labyrinth

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Isao-Shio
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Meticulously, I pursue artistically the success of my forever bound but fully engaged endevours. Faced with absolute choice until my own death ceases the constant flowing interactions of my brain, my nerves and my bones; it is nothing but the shadow of fear shallowly becoming the only specter to swallow my otherwise endless rivers of talent and passion entirely. 

Still, though I am allowed to exist within this rather seemingly endless and spacial void, I am reminded through pain and emotion that I am mortal. Forever will I continue to seek an otherwise unreachable exit within the already existing walls of this forever puzzling labyrinth from which we so commonly refer to as "life". As if all the markings of the world were solely sought by those expecting to find some ample but convenient shred of "truth"; opening up now like lotuses in Spring. These advancements, however, before withering away are now only as fruitful as the empty cries of a mad man locked within a prison of his own collapsing mind. His hands limited by what creates. He can only write everything he believes to be the covenant of his own consciousness into the eternal walls of space and time. As if to call upon the heavens to care, bow down, or at least acknowledge his life as being something worthy of being remembered. This is all slowly but effectively and eventually the only reason for why he exists at all. 

Therein, if all my efforts are to be so simply pointless, then let them be so. For, I have barely a reason to ever say any such over expounded attempts are to assume I have now somehow abused the very fabric of pursuit itself. I have done all but failed. I have done all but fallen. I have only progressed. I have only further evolved from the state I was in before. I have only become what I truly wanted then. What I am now to be a reflection of what I may forever be. An identity only known entirely by my own maker and I. An identity I can only explain simply unto you as being "me".
© 2013 - 2024 Isao-Shio
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