It’s alarming how suddenly life can lose its meaning. One moment you’re sky-high, the next you’re so deep down you wonder if you’re drilling.
So much for dreaming….
Life cannot be all smiles, for how can rose be rose without its thorns?
True that, but sometimes, don’t you just feel some celestial force picking on you?
You lose your job, sprain a wrist while clearing your desk, knock down a pregnant woman on your way out of the medic’s, and getting to the car park, find out your car’s been stolen?…
Just another bad day?
Or just plain ol’ bad luck…
Whichever suspect is finally indicted, there’s no denying the fact that there’s indeed some “force” behind it.
But how can we be sure that the villain behind bars is responsible for our sojourn down this wrong turn?
If life is this challenging, then how do some manage to find a haven?
Vic’s got a Rolls, and Nel’s got a Jag’,
My ford is from the 70’s and I have a crappy job, so I can’t keep up with the fad…
I peek around my shoulders, watching out for debtors, while every other chap smiles to the bank;
All my friends have houses and I’m still a tenant,
Sarah sings, Vanessa’s an artist and I’m the one with no talent…
So many sad stories from many promising youths.
After numerous massive failures, can we really start anew?
Our throes and trials in this age are colossal, unnerving and, almost impossible, but from this gloomy perception, is there really another view?
Sometimes to be all you can be, to achieve your lofty dreams, you just have to be you…
They say success is measured by fulfillment, but how many of us actually pursue our interests?
Some are born great artists and thinkers, poets, teachers, dancers’ bankers and singers…
But still, we drown in this melancholic sea of emptiness and recluse,
With no sense of direction, like a falcon lost from its aviary, with powerful wings, absent rectrix…
True devotion comes from the heart…So how can talent blossom, in a society where our insights are considered trash?
How can history be history without the facts?
It appears, that in this age, a sub-conscious persecution of self is regnant.
Where talent is sidelined because of a rapacious desire to blend and fit in..
That ominous horizon where gifts and proficiency become a burden
The bitter truth remains, that life is a gestalt of good times and bad. The trials and woes we face can be likened to daily jogs of long distance athletes, or the many swing of lawn-tennis champions.
If waves do not siege a ship, how can its resilience be adjudged?
Stars will never shine without the emergence of the dark skies of night,
How can human essence exhume refulgence if not tested by the storms of life?
In the end, it’s all a state of mind. If we can all try to see the lesson in every strife and conflict with the seemingly sinister phase of life, if we can understand that everything, good or bad, happy or sad, happens so we can learn.
Every thorn has its beautiful roses. If we endure till the end, our heaven will definitely sprout out of this present hell.