Precipitation Is The Only Thing That Falls

I had an epiphany, of days no longer dreary, because the discoloration of the world gives the sun less prominence, and you know how much I love the sun. Music is no longer a bellowing wind; let's look up to the sky, as we wait for the first scout of the heavens above to gently titillate our face. Welcome home. It's been long.

If I lie here, if I just stay here

The last hint of autumn, rain its unkindly companion, as I lie under the sheets for the last time, my thoughts mirrored on the invisible canvas that is my wall.

Ode to My Friends

My friends, you and I, we are eternal. I love you all.

Flashing Lights of White

When your life flashes by you, the inexplicable tinge of sadness, of letting go engulfs the present. The entire journey rewinds, each event, each frame struggling to fill milliseconds. Not enough time. Even with the sands of time contriving to slow the descent into the realms of uncertainty, one must surely lament the inevitability. Question not, you say. Just release. Because when you do, you can then, without regrets, bid farewell. Goodbye, and if it shall come to pass, ethereal beauty beckons.

My life flashed by me today. If I could relive my whole life thus far in that split second, time to consider fulfillment for what is left to grasp.

Tranquility

The crimson boy sits, reticent, the earlier disquiet replaced by a soothing incandescence.

The World Is Beautiful

"Even the best fall down sometimes."

The true mark of a real champion is the ability to transcend the winning aesthetic and to practise emotional philanthropy. By that it means harnessing the altruistic nature dormant in every person to effect, in the simplest form, a beautiful world. I see the propensity to reinvigorate a world plagued with strife and suffering based on visceral emotive reactions. I know that there is love in abundance, and we will all learn to relearn the true meaning of its concept once again.

Flights of Fancy

I have always been a traveller of sorts. Day-to-day domestic travel, the occasional international or interstate (when I am in Melbourne of course) journey, or even travelling to cities of days past through movies and popular fiction.

I wish I was there during the monumental periods in history, brushing against priceless photograph-worthy occurrences. The Aztecs, Normandy, the Crusades, Cristobal Balenciaga's personal dress fittings in his Parisian salon, travelling as Christopher Columbus' companion...the list goes on.

(An interesting point to note is the astoundingly rapid progress of man from the archaic times to the stylish, contemporary present. What is deemed passé and ugly has given way to opulence, decadence, strife, consumerism, natural disasters...the list lengthens each day as we move closer to an unfathomable outcome.)

A trip down memory lane, or rather, the days of yore, brings with it the renewed thrill of unearthing something. A flight of fancy to uncover objects of fancy, with added perils. Oh, the irony. Not that I worry anyway. Nothing is surprising nowadays. Retrospection never does any harm. First up, the Yucatån Peninsula, Mexico, back 3000 years to the Maya Civilization.