We've battled with ourselves on this winding road called, life.
We've fought wars in our minds and mindlessly, we have wandered...
At times, madness seems to be the only refuge and solace, insanity...
We struggle to hold on to a belief that we can, that we will, that we must...
We struggle to connect the dots along the way.
The drive and push seems to come from deep within, to propel us onward.
Yet, the God-in-man seems elusive... to some
This skin that houses me; this flesh that feels so much...
So much pain and turmoil, so much annoyance, seems to put a wager on us:
Who will you believe? Why would you believe? Why should you...?
Let's be 'realistic'... and the agony of the mind screams for the day of reckoning.
Though the heart, sometimes weak, thrives on a belief...
A belief that there maybe or indeed, there is...
Pain and anger, the stimulus... always seem to hold us to ransom...
Who's got the bargaining chips?
... the pendulum hooks the waivering eye... Transfixed.
Left to right; left or right...
All this is, is what is in this existence: Life.
What do you acclaim to it? What purpose do you attribute?
There are those who 'live' it, merrily and like an ecstacy drug, they escape it...
For if life is escapism, why then should you live?
Oh but so many desire to be free...
To be freed...
Freedom. Who is free?
The happy go lucky, the girls who love fun or the guys who're in it for the ride...?
Sometimes, madness is the only escape from 'life' - IF - life is just that...
So why open your eyes to a new day, if the day is not yours?
Why toil continuously...
There must be...
We've become tone deaf...
We've become accustomed to the noise...
So many voices... So many words...
Who can hear?
In silence... what is heard?
We can be our greatest hindrance
We can be the greatest...
but for whose esteem?
...Life is fickle
Written by: Rachael N. Collymore
© 2011
