02 10 16

I hope I would be more gathered, or more chaotic--located somewhere compelling me to ache for expression. I hope there would be more words, or a greater passion for more words. It has been my desire to create and in creating, inspire. But the flesh has devoured the best of me. I'm being trampled down by complacency, to go as the flow leads me on, to forget the fire to stand for the things I love doing. I'm asking myself to let some things dear to me go. I have been rude and unfair, denying myself from comfort that brings me closest to my Foremost. The world has been piling my blanks up with thoughts of what I must be occupying myself with, gradually losing my amour for things that blow me away. I hope I could do away with the pseudo-comforts which are of no utility to mine soul. I hope I would dare myself for something more. I hope I would live to see my hopes in reality.