Another chapter complete another verse finished and a new page freshly opened waiting for the crisp flow of ink onto its parched and ancient pages. What great adventures the pages wait for. In my own existence there is nothing but opportunities and possibilities, slowly narrowed by the choices and responsibilities of our yesterday. What blind serenity waits for me at the next bend, alas I know better, the serenity that I speak of is just like the New Year, always in the future, and just beyond my grasp. At least the sharp taste of wine that fills my glass is within my reach, the dinner that I have created tastes like success in my own gullet.
Why is it only the hollowness that seems to fill me? What paradox exists with the fact that emptiness is the life that I have embraced. With what would seem a success already, I seem to have found that I am missing everything. I am reaching an age that if greatness is what I desire, to be elevated from the successful mediocrity to something of substantial power, I must act now, the decision point is at hand. What is next on my list of things to do, where should I go from here? My future is left to the imagination and as always the life that I have barely clung onto for a quarter century is lacking the sweet taste of fulfillment.
As I find my own peace just beyond my grasp I have realized the hardened truth, a truth I have chewed on time and time again, that I will always feel this way, that it is a predisposition that will leave me alone and wrestles for the rest of my life. Continually chocking back the tears that as of late have surfaced so fast and so often. Left with only my thoughts and ramblings.
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