A knock sounded on my door this afternoon — I woke up too soon — from my dream — my silver spoon — feeds me the life I desire — desires of gold and sapphire — seem so insipid — before the lyre that lays untouched — unsung — unheard…

So often is sought what is left un-attainted. So often sobs the heart and yet complains to its god who forgave us all our sins. So often is longed what isn’t gained, so often forgot the losses they named — sinked below and gone from listless minds as they wish to rescind the unfulfilled truth. Truth upon which they have no claim. So often is wrought the soul by her distrusting faith, so often fought the fool the gift of fate.

Anticipate what we create Today tomorrow Elation may come our way Today we are so sad Tomorrow happiness may come our way Yet so banal This expression No one knows, no one can tell Deception – my countenance So jocund but Life begins when we resist the searching urge So this today — what it is — passing by — it is the unfortunate alibi.

Time disturbs me – us – we are here today and in moments this will cease. Every passing second we are new, every passing second we are lost. How tiring it is to perpetuate these reinventions. How effortful to mould our minds to this malleable time. How fleeting our persons who belong to these destructive frames – trotting away our selves with them to dust. Hours and hours pass away and so if in the passing of moments we forget to cease the day, we may know that the self who was dusted away may return frozen one day – wrought by the beatings of time – hammers and needles and metals and mines – gold may be all we’ll find.

If it isn’t lost that we are we cannot be found. Is it really so profound, the feeling that applause surrounds us even when we felt we were unsound to think we would ever fulfil a desire of discovery. Recovery yet from our unseen selves is prolonged and slow. I…

In the air prevailed the energy we were drawn to, a sense of power that fame belonged to, diamonds and kings, and the earth had fought to forget our origins. We were power starved. Superiority was the destination we sought. The man who first thought he was mightier than creation itself was also the man who first knew what lack meant. A lack felt, because we didn’t own what our eyes met – the outsider.

It takes more logic than depth to understand what constitutes the practice of the derivative phrase – love – your – self. For two people to maintain their love, we’re all aware they must pass a compatibility threshold, whether the validation of this criteria is provided intuitively, psychotherapeutically, intellectually, that…