Obstructions to emptiness ordained the simple planetarium. And it was blessed, for the struggle is the bond. The quiver is the hold. The pain is the joy. And now is only now.

And with our outstretched hands we seek eternity—and little do we know it is already there. Essence, the announcement—the proclamation outside the realm of our own concoction, our own fabrication, can be summoned time and time again...

The running rapid through the life which it garners—as I put my hands to it, to carry it to my lips, I found a satisfaction that bewildered me. And as I sat there, I was a dumb man in a glorious dream. Words denied, I basked and listened and heard the glorious proclamation beyond my mind. This world along side this trail told me that it was beautiful. I was not allowed to perceive this, nor deduce it. It was not a matter of some slim subjective garnering.
This was a scolding, an awakening.

I am not awake, however—I am lost. I am my own diversion. The sorrow stemming from such transience, of those I love needing to grow, to move forward. I succumb to returning to the darkness. Beyond that, because I am tired and refuse to rest.