Had some time to think. Here is the result:
Why do we chase and sprint after all these ghosts? You live a life full of intrigue and expectations that yield a rare sum of light. Beauty pulses all throughout, haunting the edges of days like the tick of a clock. Effort presses onward to finally grasp that thing – that one thing – which will finally bring resolution and bliss.
This is the losing battle. If anything, we discover ourselves to be easily fooled. Like hamsters on the treadmill, it’s a neverending emptying of the pockets to the dealer at the table. Yet, we try and try. It must be noble in the judgement of someone’s eyes, we hope.
Gorgeous sadness. Many have made fortunes mining the misery of our kind. They say if you can’t laugh at it, then you’d weep. The laughing may be a coping mechanism or just a method to stave off the brutal reality of our collective loss. The laughter is rich, however. Humor is a kind balm. The most honest is the dark variety. Here we marry the grim consequences of our actions to the wisdom gained from humble reflection. We can stare ourselves down in the mirror and smile. That’s a victory unto itself.
For all this mess we place ourselves in, how do we find a meaning to it? Almost as a gut instinct, we can flail in the pool of excuses and dish out accusations in all directions. No one is safe from these. The last target we would dare to put in our sights is our self. Claiming responsibility is a massive direct hit to the pride we all own.
If, in a lifetime, this level can be reached, there is truly hope. Tragically, we have a blind spot preventing us from achieving it, most of the time. If we treasure the perspective of an outsider, and step outside our own window view, the closer to freedom we would be.