it is pleasant to have been to a place the way a river went

we are shaped by our thoughts; we become what we think.  when the mind is pure, joy follows like a shadow that never leaves.

- buddha

come on out with your hands up

i don’t know what day it is.  there is no point of reference anywhere around me, even in my mind when i search for some defining moment.  somewhere in the realm of memory i can grasp notions of the season, or of a feeling that i continually associate with the gloom of november, but i know for certain that those are old and out of context.  today remains a mystery until i give into my failure and check the calendar.  thursday, huh.  now it’s difficult to sift through the days leading up to this one, to find the meaning behind today being thursday… there is little, everything melded together in the swirl of all that lacks significance.  gradually it becomes increasingly apparent that experience has failed me, and language is left to mend the shortcomings.  dilemma exists solely in the realization that language is constantly broken and full of failure even in the most capable of hands.  capable being one of the many categories that my own hands do not fall into.  besides that, is it not redundant and insipid to begin at the beginning?  no more is it thursday, no longer is my mind lost and wandering unfocused around heaps of leaves and beneath raindrops falling from dark heavens.  eternally am i hopeful to be forgiven for my spite, my resistance, my glaring deficit of gratitude.  deeply am i hopeful for forgiveness, though from whom i do not know.  the meanderings of the mind are attributed to blatant disregard for greater well being of my own self, deeper so to the compounding of fear.  i am not a witness for the truth.

it is finding beauty in the dissonance, peace amid the chaos, solace within the confusion, and fortitude from the unknown.