Contemplate the fragility of the present as it passes away within the blink of an eye.
For it is fragile and inconsistent, nevertheless, upon each dawn we rise.
Forward, forward, chasing the dragon within the sky, alas it will never land to greet you and grant it’s treasure, it will simply rain destruction from the sky.
Thus we evolve in our own manner, we calculate the present if only to attempt mastery of the all alluding future.
A disaster awaits the impostor who is unwilling to recognize oneself as their only master.
Granted these gifts we were, you and I, to make up for the curses that live within the gateway beyond our eyes.
For it is a thin line, this tightrope that we balance upon, for order shall hold for the moment, as yet chaos will blossom before too long.
And we seem to believe, in such futility, that we alone have been wronged, as have the generations before us, for victimhood too was their song.
As we alone believe that we have been blessed, as the heroes and saints of old, they too can attest.
To the scripture of scrutiny, beauty, love and betrayal, for all is written within the story that all souls share.
And so we embark, just as we digress, we ponder and wonder, why the riddle of life is but a test.
One that is endowed with an opportunity to unleash, the love of the beauty as well as the hate of the beast.
To tame that animal, that which is primal within this recital.
To unleash the muse, whose gifts speak truth and are ever so natural.
We can give in most certainly or we can give out, unfortunately these words speak in poetry but integrity is what they are all about.
For indecision through contemplation leads to inadequacy through inaction, accomplishing but a fraction of the inherent capabilities that are released through reaction.
In turn we must summarize why in fact we draw the line, why we claim that it is fine, why in fact we cannot decide.
For the line must be drawn between pleasure and pain, for one may allow you to breathe while the other allows you to gain within this game.
It is ever so strange to breathe new life into each and every page, an occurrence of fate or merely free will, what shall we in fact demonstrate upon this date?
For it will pass us over, in the blink of an eye.
As we are both the dragon soaring freely above, and the one below chasing ever so passionately, if only to know the reason why.