Demise of ancient ways

The is nothing like those little moments in time when everything comes together and all of a sudden you have spotted that little imperfection that made the whole thing look off. That one crack in the wall that would eventually allow penetration…

Had it been a matter of photography it would have been that moment in which you just so happen to press the trigger in just the right instant to capture a little more than merely and image on film. Like somehow part of the magic and sentiments have transferred onto the image itself rather than merely depicting it.

When eyes are growing tired and minds weary due to lack of rest and emotional uproar no amount of sleep can regenerate enough strength and compassion to carry the load through another day. What is left is raw honesty in all its simplest and least pleasing forms. Crude and brutal, yet nonetheless born from something true.

It hurts. It hurts to see and it hurts to know. It hurts to feel it happening, and worse it hurts not to be able – or willing – to prevent it. But that's life every now and then. And it CAN be a good time… it can bring learning and growing. But it still hurts.

The road to Hell is paved with good intentions, they say. Sometimes, it's true, I guess. Enemies are more often shadows within oneself trying to preserve an illusion of derelict needs and wants, rather than an outside force attacking and mocking sacred space.

So much time spent trying to understand. Trying to comprehend why that wall never goes away, and why it can't be scaled. So much time spent on working in opposite directions, only to realize that it is at all a matter of “where” but of “how”…

“Change is passion at its best, and reaching for the stars at night with belief. At its worst and very darkest it is the twilight of the Gods…

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Demise of ancient ways

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