First, storms in the western sky spoke a language of their own, if only i had known.
A ring around the moon, a vain second? Why would they tell me when i don't understand?
But when it happened, it happened telling me what i had failed to see, what i had dismissed. When reality strikes, you can't take the blow. Those who say death is natural do not know what they are talking about.
Some things question your assumptions, some answer your questions, and others just question. Then there are a few things that do all of them, at once. I have no stand against them. Not that I can't, but I don't. Is that a defeat? No. There is no war in the first place.
But it has made me halt. I wait for answers that never seem to appear. So I stop asking questions. It is time to move, but i do not want to. I realize that above all 'can' and 'want', there is choice.
I stop surging forward, but the me in me wont let me stop. It keeps pushing me from inside. The agony tries to barricade the spirit. In an unsuccessful attempt, all it does is form a mold through which the spirit, the me, the self squeezes out and here i am, recast, remolded. And now i move.
