I demand from it with questions, yet know they will go unanswered. What is my purpose; why am I here; how can I make it better?
Go to Hell.
Why am I beleaguered by such torments? Why, when my nature screams out for something else completely? Do I have no choice in this venture? No choice… or no chance?
I thrust forward laughter but my heart grows tired, exhausted by the daily toils of all it must face. Part of me knows this is a fool’s quest, and yet I go on, forever forward, determined not to fall as so many others have before me.
There is something within me that can win, but it knows not how. It fights all adversaries, but fails to move forward, grows weary in its stagnancy. Within time a pale wind will fell it, no longer strong enough to raise a defense. I fear this time.
Fear brings strength, however; strength to fight, to refute the unavoidable.
But is it so unavoidable? Why can I not win? Am I not the same man I once was? The poet warrior staring down all adversity, all negativity, all logic which screamed what I have already achieved was impossible?
I am he. The eye of the maelstrom, the mirror within a mirror, battling more within myself than ever without.
There is one course, one way through the canyon of failure which beckons me. Beyond the path of shattered dreams lies more pain, more heartache then ever realized, and yet it still remains beauteous and irresistible. For to have one I need the other, there is no option.
To reach the dream I must become the nightmare, drawing all I fear into me like embracing poison. Pain teaches more than happiness, and I have learned well, but am still a novice.
Cry not for dreams unrealized, cry for dreams never attempted.
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