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There was once a man who dreamed
there once was a man who dreamed he was someone
but he is not who he thought he was
suffocating within the walls that project obscurity
a lonely man lives his life with memories that slowly
fade from haunted eyes
resorting to drinking whiskey and quoting obscure words of poetry
as the moonlight cast its shadows in pale shades of misery
caught in the night between a smile and a tear
listening to the lonely whispers as they mingle
with the breeze of cool october night
each night like a mason he puts another brick in the wall
instead of just letting it fall
disillusioned with love but not ready to give up
there once was a man who dreamed he was someone
but he is not who he thought he was
~ D Donner ~
The beauty of tragedy captured
You've captured life.
We are all obscure. Even the "greats", preserved in their statues and tombs, will be mixed with our dust as empires rise and fall, civilization crumbles and rebuilds, and Earth, our solar system or the immediate galaxy beyond sneezes and hits the "refresh button" on parts of our planet.
But I think that obscurity, in many ways, makes us - and life - more beautiful, tragedies and all. Think of the single flower in an woodland opening, perhaps where several aged trees have come down. You stumble upon the flower, hiking. No one else may have seen it, and depending how long it is in bloom, no one else may see it. It's obscure as can be. And, if anything, that sense causes the flower to mezmorize you even more. As I have felt, and understand it from words of others, we feel at one, in that moment, in no small part because we are looking at a mirror of our existence.
So it is with our lives. We walk through this world, and along the way, we may be so lucky to stumble across a few other obscure human organisms that mezmorize us, and vice versa. To each other, we are one and we are worth so much. Neither our obscurity in the grand scale nor our unique abilities to mezmorize a few people out there are a lie. They are two truths, living side by side. Keep laying bricks.
Biographical Musing
Truth told, none of us are who we once were, and delusioned, are way more than we are! Our egos won't permitt us to think otherwise.
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~A~
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