Challenge 30: Anything you want to post about.
It isn't, a simple fact, to relay. Especially knowing that changes have a way of occurring so nonchalantly, acutely, that the altered reflections are only realised after a long time. I've been scattered into minuscule fragments throughout the year, to be collected more thoroughly as each month passes, into more solid state. I had fire in January, more water in June, and I'm ending with earth in December. The good and bad of all these stands could to be debated, as are their amalgamations, but rather, the matter is now.
Twelve months has somehow managed to colour and erode shades, dusting away feathery tangles, to weaving more threads over and underneath my minds. Nowadays I'm struck awkward by romances and poetry, finding more thunder in logic and arguments and facts. I've grown to be more aware of solid, cold truths, of political systems, of processes, plans and pitfalls. I'm not sure if this is the aftermath of concepts like maturing, or growing up, all I'm aware of that by 2013's end, in solid, cold, truthful words - the future require investments, and the sooner, the better.
Perhaps one day I'll find delirium or comfort in lounging a day away for no productive step of some bigger plan, because damned if I've not often wished to be blissfully unaware of the impending faults of lackadaisical acts. I'm tethered to thoughts of matters and responsibilities, viewing spontaneity and stupidity from my self appointed state of sensibility. I would weave stars and paint flowers if I could, embellished with morals, but I'm down to: how many threads would be needed to stitch the stars? Are colouring petals a part of the growth to enhance the field?
Admittedly the young and reckless version of myself would consider me a hopeless case. But truthfully, as with all elements there's the variations of earth's embodiment - soft, sturdy, land; or brittle earthquake plates and crushing avalanches. I'm hoping for some fusion of water and earth and fire (what a storm! Or very hot mud) to begin 2014. Time is used for looking ahead, and a lot of preparations for ahead is required. By 2014's year's end, I have a wish to be wind - blowing, flying, free. It's ambitious - but we can afford to be young and ambitious at 21.
Perhaps one day I'll find delirium or comfort in lounging a day away for no productive step of some bigger plan, because damned if I've not often wished to be blissfully unaware of the impending faults of lackadaisical acts. I'm tethered to thoughts of matters and responsibilities, viewing spontaneity and stupidity from my self appointed state of sensibility. I would weave stars and paint flowers if I could, embellished with morals, but I'm down to: how many threads would be needed to stitch the stars? Are colouring petals a part of the growth to enhance the field?
Admittedly the young and reckless version of myself would consider me a hopeless case. But truthfully, as with all elements there's the variations of earth's embodiment - soft, sturdy, land; or brittle earthquake plates and crushing avalanches. I'm hoping for some fusion of water and earth and fire (what a storm! Or very hot mud) to begin 2014. Time is used for looking ahead, and a lot of preparations for ahead is required. By 2014's year's end, I have a wish to be wind - blowing, flying, free. It's ambitious - but we can afford to be young and ambitious at 21.
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