Behold, for there is indeed light at the end of a dark tunnel. One that can and will illuminate, once again, all the sordid images flickering from a formerly shrouded conviction. Behold, for within the glory of the light lies the answers to all things, and an overwhelming acceptance of all that is beautiful and pure. Behold for within brightness of the phenomena, joy is to be found; there is life where once there was apathy. There is euphoria as the power of the illumination shines so brightly that even that which was once hidden is now even harder to understand. Behold the glory of innocence. Behold the safety of the knowledge that somewhere a miracle arises. Behold as the miracle itself takes you into her soft arms shielding you from everything which threatened to rip you from the tenuous hold you once had over a turbulent existence. Behold the worry evaporating. Behold the passion of love. Behold the desire, the beauty, the fertility of your surroundings. Behold a feeling of extreme contentment. Behold, and bask in the glory of existence. Behold yourself. Behold… LIFE!

The cycle of life is such that one birth leads to a death, which in turn leads yet again into the fruition of something yet to develop. And ultimately as things begin and die, only to resurrect, one is only left with a pair of silver earrings on one’s nightstand. The evening ends, bringing promise of the following day; an emotionally attachment is severed, only to be replaced by the birth of an empty hole which will eventually be filled with something new. Life revolves in cycles. The wheel spins upon itself in much the same manner, but brining one to different places. There is, despite the vastness of the universe and life, a certain order to things which are irrevocably related in the most profound sense. This repetition is common in all things: lessons of life, love, war, peace, economic growth, invention, physics, rise and declines of great civilizations. “What goes up must come down…” However someone also forgot the second part, “… only to rise again.” In some form or another death and rebirth are a perpetual phenomena and pretty much the only stable fact that human existence has ever known even if he hasn’t realized it. And yet people would say that we are making progress despite the untimely turn of events. Indeed, progress we are making, for despite the turnings of the wheel, the wheel itself brings us further along the road. I wonder weather it will eventually turn back upon itself. Is this a suggestion of reincarnation? Is it true that as things go towards the infinity, all things are not only possible, but also bound to happen? The larger the concept becomes, the more intimidated I feel to ponder upon it, and yet I cannot help but question this observation. Inevitably, I suppose it doesn’t really matter, for whatever I acquire in this existence will eventually also fade away into the ultimate ending and rebirth. I will perish eventually, what I leave behind will also some day cease to exist, and those who will come after us and after them will also eventually succumb to the cycle. But like all things there is a future, and no matter how complicated it gets, no matter how difficult and destructive, rebirth will always occur, and a new scenario will exist.

I wanted other things from life
But then I couldn’t much complain
Amidst the pain the hurt the strife
My feeble voice my whines in vain
The worlds revolve like miracles
Slowly sucking all the life
The worlds they spin and twist and curl
Giving meaning to delight

And solitude is sign of change
And solitude is sign of shame

There once was a man with carnal knowledge
Wishing he was off to college
Walking did he choose his path
Seeking wealth he sought to pass
And when found that which he sought
He wished his quest he had forgot
For innocence is beautiful
And ignorance is wonderful

I want to say so much more
I want to say so many things
I want to break the rhythm
I want to break the rhythm of things
I want to be a pioneer
I want to create
I want to... break it
I want to taste it
I want more time

And so the man he travelled forth
To cure himself of hopelessness
For truth he felt had no remorse
In punishing his carelessness
For knowledge all is ill begot
And antidote for it there's not

And one cannot but cry
For truth is but a lie