I was browsing through my hard drive, and found a couple of items which seem now like a vague memory to me. I found a few poems.
The comfort of anger and hate never subsiding... The soft path is there for the taking, But never would we dare take it; For that, that would be to steal, if only from ourselves, Our self-pity.
Death I fear not, But still, fear I do: The endless seas of permanence, clashing against the sand for eternity; I prepare for eternity, whatever it may be, but for eternity I am never finished, For what lies ahead I can not ever know... I fear not death, but what may or may not happen next, Not the event itself, but that permanent it may be, undoable and unmoving, With no chance for a return to comfort, and painful but peaceful monotony... I fear not death, but still fear events in life, To which the choices of turning back are forever cast away... I fear not death, but concepts and notions standing forever, though I know such a case is impossible, even as I know permanence itself is so... Yet permanence the sin leaves behind no survivors, And nonexistent permanence, need I do... And still, nonexistent permanence, fear I do.
Understanding... So easy to say, So hard to accomplish; The prisons of consciousness and their wardens guarding away, Contradictory Intelligence, Intelligently masking truth, Years of moulding bearing their rotten fruit; Break free, And then: Freedom is all there is to see.
I know, problems of your own Plague you with grief, And even you can’t deal... To me you still are some support, A beam, a root, to take hold, So when you, even you, To me indicate, A course of action against which All my morals protest - I protest right back, my heart aching, For what you cannot understand.
The sky slowly floods with a color, The brown-white moon a-lighting it with glow, Though I cannot see it, whether from clouds - Or perhaps simply a wall. The window is not far, I can walk, But I feel I should stay and think, Rather than gaze at the round orb.
Though these were supposedly written almost a year ago, they seem older still. It's very strange looking back at these writings. I barely even understand them anymore...