The Wandering-Mind

The frailties of ideological thinking hinder due course of progressive progress to a higher plain.

The ramblings of a lost soul float aimlessly throughout the universe, bouncing off deaf ears never to be heard. The cause and effect are meaningless as its true meaning has no volume. Though the reverb can be felt, the melody is lost in the distortion.

There’s a paradox that exists between what is real and what is real. A fallacy that contradicts belief and truth.

They that ponder their true identity have found themselves already. They who claim ownership of oneself already are foolishly lost.

The blunders of a chattering mind are akin to that of a cooing child. The intent behind the noise is coherent, yet the vernacular is unattainable.

I do not write these words from the dark places of my mind, where black roses and ravens live as one. I write them from a far, in the distance disconnected from my being. Scouring the abridged realms looking for a common ground to resurrect my self-preservation.