If a single ripple can disturb a pond, and a single event sculpts all forthcoming, then what is the magnitude of everything? All events,rippling the surface of the water, spreading through lakes and into the oceans, in all that chaos of disturbed peace, is one contribution truly meaningful?
Perhaps not.
Good thing we aren't ripples.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Should I listen to the voices today? Would I heed the call set out for me? Shall I strive ever onwards on what missions have been put a-front? What is, the purpose, really? For someone of my niche, to strive feels purposeless, for what is achieved can again soon be forgotten, locked away within a glass closet, whose doors lay cloaked in dust.
But should I not to strive, then what would call shall I heed?

Happy Filthy Friday~.

My perspective of time ran out.
It didn't tell me when it was going, perhaps it wanted to pick up some ice cream. A time sensitive dish, as they all are, though this one more than most readily available alternatives. Perhaps it needed to cool down? You usually do not rush out in a hurry, without saying where you are going, when you are calm and collected. I ponder if I should go out and find it. But, perhaps I'll just let it be.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

What dangers await in a world where we know nothing? how much do you prepare for the inevitable and unpredictable? What do you bring? Such questions are posed every moment, every second, every twitch of an eyelid.
The answer to most is: I bring myself, the only tool to have survive every previous venture.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Sometimes I linger too long. Standing on the precipice of opportunity I waiver, apprehension swallows my mind. And in that darkness I forget that there was ever any ledge. So I keep going; back away from the precipice or over the cliff. The result is usually the same: the choice is made for me, be it in peril of amnesia.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

I begin as I end, in the comfort of myself. Each cycle I live for the moment, content in leaving the chasing for others while I delight in the moments I have and keep having. I think little of the past, though I hold it in high regard; I strive to satisfy in the moments I live, yet every moment passes me by; I see everything around me just for what it is, and yet I am blind.

Who am I?

Happy Filthy Friday, and a pleasant new year to you all~.

Does this day, even exist?
Is a day that appears once every 4 years, still a day? What makes it less of a day? It has a morning, midday, evening; the run rises and sets; the world goes about its daily business. But the people, the people know this isn't a "real" day.
That brings them comfort.
Comfort in the chaos.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

I still wish to see more, to know more, to understand, more. This more keeps me going, has my senses peaked, has my interest captured. And I barely understand what I already have, what is important to me is n disappears in a haze of striving towards new goals, towards new horizons, towards new... more.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

The times move with us, though we already knew that. It is in fact our perception of it which makes it tangible to us. Tangible, though not tactile. In that line of thought, time only exists when we care to let it. when we bother to give it a glance, or obsess over it with zealous vigor.
Then, taking a break to relax, holds a temporal duality:
It is the single largest waste of time.
And a moment where no time passes.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Memory lingers, memory is fleeting, through memory we perceive the world. Clouds condensed of thought, serving as the canoes for sailing the seas of perception. In this context, it is sound that we fear death; the loss of our ability to remember. And, perhaps more so, we fear being forgotten.
But then, how come we experience tranquility,
in those moments bereft of memory?
When life slows,
to a stand...
still.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

We move in unison. Each taking our own steps at our own pace, yet all striking the ground at the same time. We perceive otherwise, we see others, notice how their pace differs, how ours matches our heartbeat, how theirs goes off track. We judge without seeing from their perspective, and miss out on a lot we would understand if we were walking their pace.
However, most of the time, people do not notice.

Happy Clean Filthy Friday~.

There comes a time of action, some might claim, where we take up arms against our troubles and march forwards. At those times we can accomplish great feats, and topple what stands before us. Yet, those moments are presented in the past. As a necessity then, less than it is today. We see not the pillar that tower over us, for we stand too close.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

If I take an action, in that moment, the action defines me. Should I refuse to act, then I am marked by its absence. For each moment, I am marked as the being who performs that action. Who makes that choice. And if the future is yet to come, and the past is written and defined. Then I will forever be, the person I am right now.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Blackest Friday of the cycle is met with a gleaming pearl of white marble.
The contrasts of nature and its inhabitants grow defined, greys shine in their new hues, melding with the pearl of the sky or the everlasting umbra engulfing the earth.
There are no true extremes in hue, yet this night comes close.

Wishing you all to survive the deepest day of the cycle, and that your Friday is full of fun.

At times, our feet reach out for solid road, to be met but not but our erroneous presumptions. A step ary leads the body to fly, yet only for a short while. Reality crashes into us, and we can not but ask forgiveness. For can we blame the irrefutable earth, when we were the one with our heads in the clouds?

Happy Filthy Friday~.

I feel the world is too large for my eyes to behold. Despite how wide my lids can open, they can only see a fraction of my surroundings, can only retain a modicum of the world around me. At least, on a comprehensible level. I could see more of the world, if I moved back. Eventually, more and more of the whole would come into view, but my distance to is grows in proportion. The more I see the world, the less I can see of the world. But just because I cannot see it, does not stop it from

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Time slows, the seat carries us upwards towards the stars, past the vail of grease that swathes the heaven in clouds and into the stuffed nothingness. Here there is peace. For a moment, there is respite and relaxation. Imagination, the place of escape, the place we dare thread, away from our own existance. Yet, imagination is branded with more than just escape. It is where our lives lead, it is where we envision the path.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Duality. Such is the way of perception. We perceive the world according to our own perspective, tailored by thoughts, emotions, and experiences. Our way of viewing is our own alone, and with others we craft shared viewing. Two people seeing an art piece experience two different sensation. Yet, as soon as they discuss and share, they can form a common ground. Which is then, the correct way to view the world? Or do we see in numerous ways, and become selective in the ones which we follow?

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I have a lot of little things, it is how i keep myself occupied:
Wherever my eye lands there is a place of intrigue, of comfort, of stimulation,
and it gives me no hope to rest.
I have a lot of little things, It is how I keep my memory intact:
Each object imbued with energy, past experiences and emotions that remain through time,
and it lets my mind wander forever.
I have a lot of little things, it is how I judge my value:

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The chase makes the prize all the sweeter, but perhaps even the chase itself is what some people seek, the thrill and joy of locomotion and action. This locomotion, is all that keeps the path going, in the end. Some chose to embrace it.
Some Choo choo choose it.

Happy Filthy Friday~.