Tempus Futurum

The breaking of an unblemished year brings turmoil, prophecy and prudence...

Allowing endurance of a long lived friendship, while invoking abject change elsewhere. Health must once more lead investment, as to better guild for what is to come.

External forces offer up forecasts immutably dyed with stains of their own self-doubt; Albeit in actuality beneath the most delicate of veils, so as to barely conceal the intended claim on my future. Supposedly to goad wilful concession or admission of folly. 

Thus fleeting prognosis doth reveal that which was long suspected. A cavernous void between their understanding and the rock on which I preside.

Let no such views be thrust so imprudently. For It seems the fates prevail not the virtue of outward compliance upon my plan. Forever misconstrued as a morass of false impression, to bear no fruit. A complete prostitution of the talents so fortunately bestowed. Proudly bearing this prominence akin to a disobedient nature.

Roused by misapprehension, I find it not difficult to engage the more venturesome aspects for which I seek to be recognised. To descry opportunity and reach further still into the unknown.

 This outcome being far less terrible to me than all which hath been presented.

Breathless

The resurgence of an old adversary is lamentable indeed... 

His restrictive grasp all the more merciless than remembered. Thus culminating in days of squandered opportunity; further underpinned by the mercenary clutch of glacial conditions gathering day by day.

A wilted hiss, rather than the customary voice. Defiant reason; whereabouts unknown. A briefly benumbed period of feebleness, incurred by the return of that wheezing rasp. Mingled frustration bore from a hitherto unfamiliar lack of will. 

Nonetheless, the fleeting temperament of this impotence was welcome, proving incentive to regain an even keel. Yet, to spite the impetus to sleep; refused compliance was more the case. Established rhythms elbowed from sync by the erratic moods of infirmity.

So insomnia; discerning her chance, pushes the advantage. Forcing her will upon my waking mind. The last vestige of resilience.

A Balance Of Wealth

Darker days oft bring keener thoughts...

With health found lacking and not incongruous with the seasonal change. Time is rife for much overlooked scrutiny. A rearward glance over former schedules reveal a rich tapestry of life, love, work and play. Repetition to all appearances to have conceded ground to it's more determined brethren, Irregularity. 

Not ever have daily matters showed signs of being so varied in hue; nor so mercurial of nature. Yet calmness is permitted to breathe this fractured jigsaw. An adjustment, bore from a year of doubt, now entrenched.  

In all my conjecture I came to be wide of the truth. At the heart, a failure to ascertain how I would evolve. Namely that the grim land of independent living could come to be not only home, but also refuge. Safety in what others would deem insecurity. From this, a basis to thrive had emerged; while still not suffering the yoke of another.

As to the nature of wealth; my confidence resides alongside the thought that it is not purely a realm ruled by the monetary. Moreover, it is well-being that governs, and by that means I must seem all the more richer than first assumed.

So I conspire to Happiness.

Divisions Of Self

The dull light of day grants a moment's reflection after weeks of relentless continuity...

A cacophony of fraternisation; jousting familial contact, punctuated with stark clear passages of companionless discovery. Nevertheless; now the chill, unfamiliar breath of interlude. Opportunity to garner greatly yearned for perspective. The perfect storm of social collision now a dwindling imprint on the skyline.

In afterthought; it is this place, where aspiration and ambition are given room to breathe, that breakthrough is oft made. Free from repetitious justification of choices made. The call for distillation is ever present; to boil down to nearest base elements. No enumeration of skills or prowess; No achievements to be totalled, like trophies awaiting a shelf on which to gather the dust. Instead to succumb to a definition of values.

Experience - That vivacious need to extend all that is felt, tasted, smelt, heard and seen. To drink the nectar of each day, never to cease finding.

Knowledge - A hunger for notions to nourish a mind that seeks out and stores with wild abandon. An investment in thought inspired by great minds who have pushed the limits of the human condition.

Creation - To indulge the essence of the undefinable, that lofty space where ideas burst into existence; become real. The journey to leave an artifact suffused with a sense of oneself.

Compassion - Enrichment of those with whom paths cross; melded with a willingness to aid, and support beyond what is mere courtesy.  

Each ethos in itself cannot be view in isolation. Moreover, all are intrinsically linked. Sharing of a symbiosis that enables wholesome attributes to shine to the fore. Likewise, their more heinous brethren are tempered with prudence, and acknowledged as a necessary part.

So without artifice or iota of regret; the path ahead awaits, ready to be trodden.

Apathy; The Muted Chaperone

Hibernation looks to be not the sole province of lower mammals. 

A boon to larger beings with a weakness for the over-indulgent. So imprisoned by the seasonal, the financial, and the intangible guiles of persona.

Dormant; locked away from all, in the company of innermost thought. A mind free to wander into darkened recesses not oft explored. So thus, an accidental day; without speech or interaction of outer humanity.

Hours dull; no spark, a lackluster scene. Yet not without dutiful movement through the ceaseless procession of tasks. Lined up like gaunt destitutes, each awaiting their turn; Queue jumping forbidden.

A languid mire with allure hard defined; but nor indeed a lazy recline.

Moreover, an idea that behavior as this can be allowed. Which in itself marks a change from previous lives lived. However, this comes but not without risk.

The steady chipping away at the edifice of reason, leaving no visible scars for the passerby. Incomprehensible damage, apparent nevertheless.

Dwindling resources soon broker a break from this spire of isolation. For sustenance will better rule than procrastination.

Dim Equinox

The insipid yet drowsy bleakness of mid-week...

As I wander, all about seems lacking. Each colour deprived of its hue and vibrancy; Natural tone substituted by shades of expressionless grey.

Is this coincidence? That so discernable a variation thus complements my mood.

Or am I responsible for rendering so dulled a piece?

A raven set aloft within a leafless tree, cries out in consensus. As though it had perceived my mind and sought to allot blame firmly in my quarter.

Adversity stalks close behind me, never permiting a moments peace; while denegrating hope. Furthermore buffed up by a slew of victories, his form looms large and besets with a new found mischief. Endowing small acts of frustration into an already arduous day.

All is mediocre. Even the light and warmth of the sun seem inappropriate. Likened to an awkward guest attempting acknowledgement, but shying away in the final moment behind the growing gloom.

Be that as it may, scant words spoken have enabled a surge of thought. A rekindled hunt for resolution through dark forests of doubt. Distinctly marked routes only brook a compromised exit, and may surrender too many gains of the journey already trodden. 

So onward through the tangled undergrowth of mis-convention. Hacking my own way forward.

Motherland

Motherland by The Bones Compendium