A Troubled Road

I walk a troubled road,
the joys of life seem dim,
and like a distant star
that now shines from afar
which exists no more today,
I too have gone.
You only see me now
because of some delay.

Something True

In a moment of desperation, I wanted to search for something that's true in the world of lies. I decided to type in 'something true' in google and in the few milliseconds it takes between pressing the search button and getting a result, I realized how futile it was. Things that are true won't show up on google, they are things that must be searched for. If it were that simple, everyone would know what they were.

The truth is disguised by a thousand lies, and it's not that it isn't there, it's just that it's so hard to reach. It's a quest. I think I would distort the truth by adding in numerous lies.

I realize that if I'm searching for something true, I have to look inside me. There's no google engine for what's inside me though.

The Lost Pieces of Me

Lately I haven’t been myself. But whenever I lose the bits of me that I once was, I cannot but wonder if they’re ever coming back. My greatest fear is that they have left me forever. I try and find them when they’re lost but to no avail. They are drifting in an ocean I cannot swim. It is they that have always managed to find me after my search for them has been abandoned.

That is why today as I observe the missing pieces of myself, I search hopelessly and I know I will soon give up my quest. I search for things that cannot be found. I resign myself to hoping that these pieces will come looking for me. They’re lost in an ocean that only they can navigated. When these pieces are with me, I too can navigate this ocean.

But because all things must be lost at some point, I’m not sure when these pieces will forsake me forever. I’m not sure if they will come knocking on my door once more. Without them I have nothing to offer, so why would they return.

Do they visit another soul while they are away? Or are they standing at bay? If they visit another, how horrible it must be when they leave him; As horrible as it is for me. But I cannot have more sympathy for him than I have for myself. No, I want those pieces back, they’re mine.

If they are at bay, I fear it is me who fends them off so that they are unable to return. They must see me as a madman tilting at windmills and cannot approach me as I lunge at nothingness in full swing. I’m a blind warrior waving his sword at nothingness.

I must calm down and stop battling. I will let myself float and allow my life guard to save me. I must rest in order to allow the pieces of me to find me. It takes more energy to stay still sometimes. It’s just a different kind of energy. Am I fighting to become myself or am I fighting myself? I’m not sure anymore these days. It’s because I haven’t been myself lately though.

An Unanswered Question