our modern world
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Sunday, April 27, 2008
against the backdrop that looms before me. it was all once but a dream. and now i am here, standing before the long road that goes home. eventually it should at least. i remember the faint stories people used to tell me, of the limitless opportunities and the endless seasons. it all repeats itself too many times but you learn to love it. have i loved it?
i tell myself i do and yet there's this little voice in my head that tells me that this isnt where i'm going to end up. maybe. yet i still don't know. sometimes i wonder whether i may just be forcing myself to ride that train and get off to where people believe i should be. and i believed with them. i squeezed myself like a sardine in the can and beared the toils of the world with my fellow man. and yes, i did feel one with them. the rays of the sun shimmering on my skin. its very hot these days but we've got to do what he have to do. and that's how it all goes for us. and just like the stories of before, pretty endlessly really. we don't see it, but it's that way. all the movements, up, down, left, right, it doesn't matter. we all get stuck in that web and even though we reach the end of it, we find ourself going back the center, amongst the tangles, shambles, tears and laughs. and with them i wonder, is that all that we can do? is that all we can ever hope for? there has got to be another way. i always felt that there is another way. someone used to make me believe that i wasn't cut out, that there really existed another ecosystem, another life force outside of that web we all get tangled in.
and for a while i believed, i really did, changing how i viewed the world completely. that our fates should never be tied up to that web. deceit, lies, confidentiality, seperate functioning spheres of the life stream, and we hurl ourselves into all that. we never know what to expect but we have an inkling that this and that is gona happen. and thinking of all these things makes me squirm but there is no room to do so. and just like the web, there isn't any room sometimes, there's this dead end wall and as much as we all try to scale it we slam back to the cold floor, the warmth escaping our veins and then we become similar to all those lifeless, cold spheres. we all become silhouettes of what we used to be, fire, fuel, hope, change.
and as the train nears its stop, one by one, we file out of our confines, only to be confined yet again. where did it all go wrong? how does hardhip beget more hardship? where has the indefiniteness gone in all of us?
i don't have the answers right now, but i hope to get them after a month's time.
"there is a wall that ruuuns right through me"- kreuzberg, bloc party
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