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So here we have what happens when I feel that I have something to write, and yet ahve no idea why I have that feeling. Doesn't happen all that often, but this last time I was encouraged just to let my hand write whatever it wanted. Now, naturally I do not have a self-setient right hand (or at least I hope I dont, cause there's a lot that I really don't want to explain to it). But for the exercise of letting words form without direct control, it helped me to think that way. The result, is below. And yes, as the first line indicates, I didi indeed write this on a notepad first. (I'll explain to some of you younger kids out there about what paper is at a later time. wink )

My thoughts, pouring onto the page before me, as rain pours upon the windshield of a rushing vehicle. Falling to a destination, amorphous, changing over and over. Slowly taking form as the time draws near, taking a single final form of elegance and simplicity. Then crushed against the perspective of reality, elegance giving way to reason, form giving out to purpose. Finally collected together, in a single mass to be seen or ignored. Interpreted by all, understood by some. Until finally washed away by the currents of time. Some will remember, while many will not. But the pleasure of existing has been given to my thoughts, and the curious joy of sharing them as well. And once all my thoughts have come and gone, this final victory, the victory of purposeful existance, will be eternal.

So. Yeah.
Hyper-inflated Metaphor? Overly long analogy? Confusing mish-mash of random words and punctuation?
Judge for yourself.


-FireSpark Out
Sometimes I straight up creep Me out.