Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Somewhere along these lines I have lost sight of the big picture - assuming my body still lies within a canvas these days. I would certainly not be able to tell. Though my conscious moments tend to rupture with a most mystique exuberance, I find the pallet to be faded, somewhat outdated, and sadly berated. Where did I lose sight? Then again, was it even my own sight that created the frame? I know the answers to these questions. Whether I wrote them or not, I am forced to forget until the idea of remembrance is long forgotten. Ten. Ten Commandments. Ten demands. Ten guidelines.
ASIDE: Even though the lines have been drawn, surely I can be my own guide.
I have longed to escape these boundaries. I have not been the one to make them, yet I have restored their purpose. To move off topic from this extended metaphor would only further prove my point, so I must awaken from this coma and from this fabricated comatose. How can a blind man sleep for so long when there is hardly a difference between dream and reality? If the canvas is painted black, it need not matter if the man is asleep or if he is blind. Regardless of which state I am presently in, I must urge myself to awaken. It is the only option I have, for if I am asleep, my will can prevail, and if I am blind, then it is no question as to why I lost my direction.
Revelation: A blind man can easily differentiate between dream and reality, for in dreams, he regains his sight.