Absence Of Fervor

Patientia Lost...

The cleansing deluge failed to refresh, even now its very presence has evaporated together with my ardor and eagerness.

An anomaly of ambivalence has thus taken root, and my waking mind struggles to decipher the cure. This admission in itself, an almost ineffable taboo, not to be re-uttered for fear of encouraging the growth of this transgression. It would be to advocate what is in plain sight, and so give complementary reason to it existence.

Instead a more parochial, austere process is perhaps needed. Prudence in fact; while the wait for the more elusive abundance of ambition continues. This obsequious attendance is less than satisfactory though, and not in keeping with a true sense of self.

Thankfully, lurking in shadows, unerring defiance remains. Still laced with the earnest hope that the damage left from this episode is not irreparable.
 

Cycle Of Rebirth

A genesis of my fortunes...

So dawns a fresh month and marks the emergence once again of 'The New'.

The storm now weathered and the marshaled forces of endurance so gathered. No more the hackneyed approach; but in its stead, a vigorous succession of chance, mingled with a countenance of cultivation.

A brazen modus operandi, starting from a point of ground zero. Fostering plans both audacious and ambitious in scale. However, old pressures have thus eased, while just-born trials still lay ahead.

So begins the onset of a new master plan, from a birthplace struggle. Spring itself is the cradle from whence it grows.

The Utmost Need

Behind the time...

As the month careers to a finish I find myself forced to contend with the vagaries of changeableness. Which can with one hand bestow great gifts, and with the other take more than can be coped with.

Social distractions, although welcome and bearing of rich fruits, now must be cached for another day.

It has become a sprint for solvency through mud clogged fields. Even-handedness a luxury beyond my means, and stability only a vague outline at the finishing post.

Partisan views now coloured by the need for immediate gratification. If only parity can be reached, then perhaps by a narrow escape, all will be saved.

Reserve resources thrown into play, and hopes of welcome rewards set-aside. Sheer doggedness, grit and sacrifice, my only allies.

Egotism; The Double Edged Blade

It cuts both ways...

Inadequacy ruled supreme over my monetary exploits this past week. A debacle of such proportion, and so ill timed, as to perhaps unhinge my very livelihood.

No dereliction on my part, but a catalogue of circumstance all convergent on the same delicate crossroads. Prediction of these phenomenon was impossible, but the spectre of their presence ever felt. 

In their wake, a task too towering to contemplate. To achieve of something nigh on impossible in the time allotted. Brought into stark relief now, the thread by which my contentment hangs.

Is this to ever be the case? The true manifestation of the existence I have chosen to live.

Can I once again redress the balance? Find buried deep some new source of resoluteness.

All of this then was suspended for a time. In its place a journey, and then respite far from the stress. Rolling green and sun blessed fields. Adventure replaced adversity; contemplation substituted despair. Free air and keen company imperceptibly restoring the tattered ego.

So on return the full gamut had been run, but the visage of the task appeared less fearsome. This is a beast I can conquer; I must.

The Maelström

Thrown back into a chaotic whirl...


One week closes; a well-meaning favour delays the beginning of the next. When it finally comes, it hits with a force uncommonly severe; by that time a day behindhand. Clawing from all sides, all seeking attention. A dizzying cascade of tasks, engagements, pressures and responsibilities. The draught of which pulls under like a rip tide, dragging down stream from where I should be.

Synchronisation between life and goals lost. This is not unfamiliar territory.

Distractions in their usual form appear to entice and lure with the promise of melody and rhythm. Only a firm hand on the rudder is able to steer my enterprise back on course. Leveraging every last drop of zeal to wrestle back control from the sirens of diversion.

However, in the midst of this, new inspiration is found. Where history meets art in that most favoured of centuries. Words which never cease to invigorate the spirit of learning. Art from bygone times. Maestros long dead; yet satisfying to the senses.

Bohemianism

The alternate found...

Too easily the steady concourse of time pushes onwards, realisations left unseen and changes absorbed into the greater whole. Each second, minute or hour moving persistently into the next. Only if the movement halts and the scene therefore illuminated, can form be comprehended.

Like a storm, it engulfs. Not born by winds of doubt, instead a joyous rampant deluge of thought. A link to past brethren, an ethos shared and lived. To whom normalcy was a contrary concept. To conform, an evil fought at every juncture with all weapons in their armoury. Bourgeois forces of convention surrounding their ivory tower, and laying siege to the unorthodox souls within.

Solace therefore I find in these echos of long dead kindred, and new call to find others of like. Not in the pages of bygone histories, but in the now, in my own history which I am forging. 

To share minds, to stoke and fan the flames of innovation. With an aim set so lofty as to be an almost beyond sight. Find my place, where true self can flourish and breathe the air of unrestricted creation.

Elsewhere

Elsewhere by The Bones Compendium