In the end.

So free,and so unwound
an intoxicated butterfly,waiting
in measured heaves
the passing of breaths.flash,flash,flash

My world seems a series of unthought reactions. How often do we think upon what we do as we're doing it?For me, I scarcely think beforehand either. Only after. Don't get me wrong, I frequently ponder on the future and feel concern, apprehension, wonder and even on some rare occasions, awe and excitement at those things which it might entail... However I don't often think out my actions before embarking upon them. The rest belongs to my dream world of idealism and the wayI'd LIKE for things to be in what I personally consider the IDEAL = finalised state. But I barely if ever take the time to consider the practical implications and hard work necessary, and those times during which I do, (fleetingly), I often feel altogether overwhelmed by the concept and incapable of the responsibilities living idealistically demands.And then there are the neverending loopholed traps one can so easily fall into: self-righteousness,egocentricity borne of pseudo selflessness, a holier than thou complex of condescending implications...

It's all too easy to give up and say fuck it, isn't it? When everyday runs into a long night before awakening to new vibrance and inspiration. Inspirationis only ever short-lived, and we must remain for the most part in the dark. It is in the darkness that we learn most. And by enduring the dark we gain the capacity for endurance... The longevity needed to accomplish dreams.

Don't we?

Breathing, a measured science
the butterfly flaps it's wings,heralding dawn
a neverending mystery of colors
vibrancy dies an unnoticed death.clap,clap, clap.