SOMEthing

Sound of Silence


My quasi faith was my crutch.
Now, I have nothing.
But out of nothing can finally come something:
A realization that outside of my hundred years of something,
There is nothing,
And that the only thing that is something,
Is this temporary something.
But that only means that this something,
Damn. It's really something,
Even without a great something
Who crafted it out of nothing.
And now I am saved,
From going on as something,
Praying to nothing,
Expecting to one day become nothing,
And rise from nothing, to again be something,
Blindly accepting this nothing until the end of something,
Only to find, nothing


The trees
The hills
The leaves
The roots
The grass
The sun
The sand
The stars
The snow
The falls
The rain
The clouds
The birds
The bears
The bats
The cats
The mice
The men
The mind
Remain just as beautiful.
And perhaps even more incredible.


__________________________________________________________________________


Yesterday, I read about organizational culture. We're quite the peculiar species. The words that really stayed with me: Man is an animal suspended in webs of significance he himself has spun. The simple, blinding and deceptively obvious truth infiltrated my brain and refused to show itself out.


They pity the fool, but I envy him at times. It would be so great to again have the ability, if only for a second, to immerse myself in the illusion of humanity. But I stepped out for a bit of reality a few years ago and I've only been getting further away from myself ever since. In all honestly, I don't want to lose all partiality. I want to remain a victim of standpoint. A product of circumstance. I want to once again be plagued by the illusion of standard ethics, of universal morality. 


But is ignorance really bliss? Who had it right, Cypher or Neo?

On a side note, Eddie shot me
with my own paintball gun a 
few days ago.