I’ve wondered this for quite sometime. Why is it that we run away from the truth? As individuals, as groups, as a society, truth often becomes this evil thing that must be struck down, scuttled away, banished. Truth is the large gorilla in the corner of the room that everyone refuses to acknowledge, as though … Continue reading It Remains
Tag: prose
Building
Habits can be a lot like writing a story. Each habit a simple word or phrase assembled together, each supposed to build upon the last. Bad habits become the sentences we placed in haste or laziness, or carelessness, or for the purpose of stroking ego, or any reason. We edit our lives, pruning habits and … Continue reading Building
Often
We often fear what we don’t understand. Unless we allow our curiosity to flourish. But fear is insidious, latching onto the darkest corners of our thoughts, pushing its tendrils out to lash out at us. How dare we be curious; fear needs to be fed. But I’d still rather be curious than afraid.
There Still Is Magic
Evening is approaching. Stars peak through the dark blue, their light approaching the destination after millions of years’ journey. They meet our eyes as we gaze towards the sky. Imagine them as they are now, burning… giving life to another world. Limits to the possibility are unbound even by the infinite reaches of our imaginations. … Continue reading There Still Is Magic
Narrow
We live in a very narrow field. Our planet in on a narrow band within a star system. Our bodies must maintain a very narrow temperature range with our own body only able to manage a slightly less narrow range without the aid of our inventions. What we see falls in a narrow band of … Continue reading Narrow
