Counter World Clockwise

“We’re not done, but it’s a start.”

                               Sara Adyms - “One by One.”

Is our life a roadmap to the future?  Is it a photograph to the past?
Is it merely a blip on the roadway of a life that simply leads to another that we cannot comprehend?

I refuse to decend into such madness without a logical faith.

…but then again, since when is faith so logical?

Faith is faith, and you either have it, or you don’t.   Part of faith is the struggle to obtain it, the struggle to keep it.

…and it is so, worth keeping.

                                                   “Somewhere” - West Side Story

When is a dream, just a dream…and when it is something more?  When it is important, will we know the difference?

Whether it is our sub-concious reminding us of something we already know, or a message from someone from above, will we recognize it for what it is?  Is there anything to recoginize? Or is a dream is just a dream.

“You have to decide what kind of person you are. Are you the kind of person who sees signs, miracles? Or are you the kind that thinks its just coincidence.”
                                                                Sixth Sense

I’ve always felt that everything happens for a reason.

The people that we meet, the dreams that we have, the sorrows we suffer and the joy we experience.
The darkness, and the light…I don’t believe that it’s always just random.

…and having said that, I’ve said more than I already should have.

“another moment passes by us, darling.”

                                 
                                Almost Free -  Sara Adyms

The sky is blue, blotted with white clouds that looked as if they were whipped and dropped there.  There are flowers planted neatly in little circles around a triple flag-pole and cement surrounds it.  The sidewalk is even and the various trees are mostly green, although a few have shades of purple in it.

The year is 2008, and it’s just another day we take for granted.

Considering that most people write to express thoughts, sort out thier demons, or to document an episode in our ‘modern’ life, it occurs to me that even less of us stop to write about what we assume people already know about where we are, or how the little piece of earth we occupy looks, how the people act, and what drives everything to be as it was or is.

Some of us are alive, but for how long?  And how many of us have forgotten how to simply just live?  Will any of it matter in 5 years? 10? 50?

I don’t want to forget to live.