It comes to this, that we begin a journey into an unknown future, with but one small step. But what an important step is this which marks the paths we take. Ages pass, friends are made, lost, forgotten, but through writing, we may capture glimpses of a time, a place, or the people that once filled our lives with such bliss, such regret, or sometimes just a fond memory dying to resurface. So as we continue this voyage, and find that time is a cursed virus, killing us quickly, silently, before you know it you find yourself face to face with an old, fragile creature, scarcely more than an apparition, living on, just to live, at the end of one path, and preparing for one final venture ‘cross the fabled river sticks into the unknown afterlife. All that matters in the end is what legacy we have left in the wake of time, after our light fades into oblivion.
My journey is now on the verge of a bold new horizon, whether it be the ominous end of the oceans edge, or the path to astounding or horrifying new lands, I do not know, but I am ready for wherever the stars may lead me. I have been equipped with the means to continue on into the unknown, and taught of the joys and dangers ahead, yet when the frightful mists of a new dawn embraces the world around you, it always seems that with a little more time, a little more effort, the path wouldn’t feel so threatening and bent against your will.
I look back fondly on my humble beginnings, yet for all the gold of Solomon’s temple I shall’t surrender the great mentor’s that have made me who I am, for one can have all the knowledge of men, but without wisdom he is nonetheless blind, it is folly to shape one’s foundation on the ways of the world, and all that one can find fault in is their own aversion of commitment to what they are so desperately yearning for in life. All else is but poisonous vanity, slowly suffocating our dreams, until dreams evade us.
Who am I? This even the self does not truly know, but through writing, small pieces of one’s true nature can be brought forth. As he who studies the past may find his ambitions in another, and thus may discover ways in which he may exploit his gifts to the utmost ends, and trim the dead branches from his character that bears no fruit, or fruit that may look as pleasant, but once consumed it becomes the means to his end. Weakness is no virtue, it must be overcome, nor mistaken as humility, for in humility one may ascend, but in weakness he is overtaken, and shut away from any significance. My weakness is a plague to me, but through wisdom and discernment I may perish the thought that my words, no matter how raw my throat becomes from screaming them, they will not be heard, or perhaps heard, but taken as foolishness and of no consequence by others.
I feel strength growing in me, may it one day become great enough to release me from my chains of doubt. And with strength comes hope for a brighter beyond. The rains lighten, the storm is passing, and I can feel the warmth of the un-shrouded sun beating upon me further with each passing moment. Yet for all I’ve learnt, it would all be useless if I hadn’t have found the courage to believe in myself, in mine own abilities, but it is also wise to learn when to lean on others when one’s will alone is not enough to get through the trials that are encountered on the way, and to this I hold as I continue on in this journey, and begin to carve my name into the book of life, to live on once all returns to dust.
