Is the glimpse of a human life wasted upon thoughts all cosmic and forlorn? Would the service of its own sensation be suited more satisfactory with gratification that fades near as soon as it arrives?

Is hope only lethal in toxicity beyond a certain point, past a certain age? Or was such belief always doomed for the pile of passing fads, finding surface again in different souls of the species strewn across the brief eon we’ve thus, and might ever have?

So wonders this boasting and burnt-out bard upon this recital now regular, aligned with the common apprehension as to whether this all just mutters and meanders around the same point, all amounting about the celestial same as nothing.

And yet, persist, he must. Maybe even, we must.

It is all just a balancing act, these existential plates all teeming with the potential of something more tectonic. At any moment, beyond tumultuousness as the gravity of life might pull them back to violent center, setting whichever asunder, whether lacking in strength or just timed and placed right to become the eternally separated pieces of something that once was. Somehow, despite the staggering and self-set and external nemesis alike, I find enough functional digits to spin more plates than might appear possible. Always dancing about partnered with the triple left-footed improbability of any of this even being at all.

But balance is not the same as neutrality. It is far too vibrant and alive to ever be roped in with a status so mundane. It is not the constant feed of circumstance and chemicals that keep anything from ever altering, or at least appearing so. The balance of life is a constant course correction, so viciously vivacious that navigation must be nimble even in destitution, and perhaps even more so in that which gets deemed as delight. As it ceases to allow static steadiness, so we must dynamically deny any advance or retreat without some opposing, if not equal energy of our own action and mind.

Easier said than done, of course.

There is a certain amount of peace in ideas of acceptance. Particularly in the matters beyond the current span of control in this both slow and speedy march towards the never-relenting tomorrows- he said, looking up at the instrument that once was his friend’s. The last gift, from beyond the shroud of mortality. Aside from the words that echo about the brief eternity of this here narrator’s skull. And a laugh so strong and salient that the very halls of Hades might come crumbling down. Or so I’d like to think.

But while a certain acceptance, like those along the lines of understanding that some people, no matter how beautiful, will exclusively reside in the past, is a healthy enough thing across time- some acceptance, I wish to retain rejection of. And might always, or so I hope, whether toxic or not. For internal harmony with the great and devastation occurrences of life is far from being the same as surrender. And in this episodic errantry, it is still among my deepest feelings that standing stalwart under impossibly pressure is of vital importance. Not stiff enough to shatter while still being unyielding. Not broken, even when bent. And for all the times you might have to stand guard over your own well-being- there are plenty still when the right help from the right soul, at the right moment might be exactly what you need. So, within that idea, be sure, dear reader- be that help for others, yet fear not when others might be out to help you. A stance I believe, almost hypocritically so, based upon much of my posturing and outward demeanor. For even though it might be possible to survive on the islands of our own creation, it is still probably better not to. Even if it is only a ghost that keeps you company.

But wait, how did this all start? Oh right, about thoughts and whether they are better being vast or shrunken down to little more than survival. A wandering mind, you surely must know is in charge of these words from week to week.

This life, somehow, is both so brief and bereft while also being a seemingly boundless behemoth. Or so says the fellow hovering about what is statistically near the middle of his own. Very in medias res, and so on.

     Yet the journey can be magnificent, even when appearing otherwise. And success without failure is about as useful as an asshole on your elbow, and just as likely to cause a mess. There used to be a thought more prevalent in my mind, about what I would be if things had turned out how a younger, dumber version of myself might have dreamt up with half an ass. And while I tend to always show gratitude enough for the man that was forged from difficulties and circumstances more chaotic- I find that thought to be less occurring, and more useless than ever. Maybe that is part of all that healthy acceptance bit. But better still, I think of it as the acknowledgement of better spent sentience resource.

For although this is all the life this consciousness has known, and no matter how perpetual younger days may have made it appear, the understanding is near absolute that forever isn’t how long this bout in this body and mind with be getting. As the comic book character said, ‘You get a lifetime. No more. No less.’

So with that, more work to do, me thinks. Exactly how and what is always somewhat elusive. But since time seems perpetually convinced to go forward, we must make choices regarding our behavior. Kicking and screaming is an option, but be it virtue or pride, I will continually reject that caliber of conduct. Instead, no matter how improbably, I will face the front, yet again. Either with fight or fascination. But face it, we must. Because just as all the resides behind us was once in front, so too shall these tomorrow become today. Until that last today arrives. And whether you asked me or not, I shall still tell you. If the choice boils down to this dichotomy, I will always choose to be a fool instead of the coward. No matter what binds and ties my being to states seemingly inescapable, still, I will continue, even if combatively is the only coercion conceivable. And even if it all ends in conflagration for charming narrator- I can hope the burning light will be enough to guide someone else somewhere better. Even if for only a few steps forward.