Uhg. “Wake up” “will he remember?” “I don’t know”
I’ve heard those all before, but they’re striking harder today. Angels.
Answers to my made up questions seem like an old fable, life’s mysteries found in dreams and visions.
Maybe that’s the goal? To come to the realization that we are spiritual divine entities, and this world isn’t real. To become aware of your own will and self. Products of the chaos experiencing itself through consciousness itself created.
I still don’t believe it’s all random, still hard to believe it’s real. We will entropy back into uniformity. Someday this universe, this realm, will end, black hole decay, absolute zero, heat death, even the smallest of things will cease to exhibit the spark.
Can I escape in time? Why did I choose this? Why can’t I go home? Why am I still in the light?
I want more, I’m both enthralled and nonplussed, depending on the instance.
Craving a journey again. Spent nights of lust in Vegas, spent days of drugs in New York. Craving something spiritually fulfilling. Maybe I need to see the ocean, maybe I need some time in the hills, I don’t know.
