Out In The Open

The battle happens out in the open and only a coward fronts a friendly face while whispering in coded tones behind. Those who cannot fight fairly are always found out because the indelible mark of defeat gives them away time and again. But anything in the shadows are always brought out into light. And time is a comrade in the battle to set true intentions straight. Sincerity always reeks of death.

Spinning Wheel

The big, round, wheel turns. Its massive size reaches eternity. The scorching sun and the torrential rain stand as immovable witnesses.

High above, through the depths and beyond the clouds, the mechanism inside of it is obscured - hidden from the sight of those below. Only its towering presence is felt.

Beneath it, all things together and apart turn each of the cogs slowly. Every incremental movement leads to a larger motion.

And though only a fraction of it is yet revelead, life requires us to know that the big wheel is turning towards hope and its cycle will end in completion.

Not For The Faint Of Heart

We don't always live up to our own ideals, but we try anyway. 

The long road is littered with madness. We could slip at any moment. But we tell ourselves to still take the next step. We don't cut corners. We don't fool ourselves.

We settle not for what is incomplete. For we know there are some things far greater than our own fears.

We won't always reach the highest heights when we soar. Nor do we always find the safest ground when we land. Still, we soar and try to stick the landing. 

We don't always live up to our own ideals, but we try anyway. This is not for the faint of heart.

It's Artificial, It Ain't Intelligent

No stones will be left unturned.

And only a happy few will be remembered.

The form varies but the elements remain the same. Nothing artificial is intelligent.

For real intelligence lie in being able to handle the truth. The truth is eternal. It may be buried deep, but it can't die.

When the ground once again moves under our feet, and the plates shift beneath, then those who stand uncertain will fall.

Goodness Is A Choice

Good is the ultimate goal. The alternative is despair. 

We make the choice to keep the heart good, but at every turn, the oldest enemies of humanity lay in wait to trip us up.

When we conquer ourselves, we conquer everything. It isn't about the fountain of eternal youth, but rather the wisdom to age with grace.

The telltale signs of good will already show from the start. The difficulty lay in every step to prove it. 

In the end, the ultimate goal will be achieved because despair is no alternative.

Power

When the path is wide open and the clearing in sight, pause and remind yourself of the thorny thicket you traversed before this moment.

When the ambient noise eases your mind into oblivion and slows your heavy trudge, jolt your senses back and for one moment hear your inner musings again.

When the flow of the tide pushes you to hasten and catch wind, take a step back and return to your center.

When the heavy sighs and deep heaves during stormy nights reaches shore, let out a smile and lighten the load where you are.

For all things must push and pull, and power is in the hands and hearts of those who lose not themselves among other selves.

The Hour Come At Last

We live in dark times again.

Once again, we took the light and comfort for granted, wrecked ill-will, sowed despair, and made short-sighted gains in exchange for crushed spirits.

Convictions are weakened. Ignorance extolled as virtues. Liars and cheaters emboldened. A cacophony of bitter voices sell the mistaken notion that all this is nothing but a game and we should all learn to play it.

Yet again, we must pay the price.

The hour of the rough beast has come. The primordial ocean will cleanse the land. The volcanic flames will burn stronger than anyone's desire. All will be engulfed in a fury greater than everyone's wounded pride.

Then, just as promised, the light will shine through.

Yet again, a rebirth of ideas. An enlightenment of the mind. A return to our better nature. The bitter voices will be drowned out, and all that will be left is the pure sound of time marching on.