"Behind the smoke, there lies a fine line of purpose and circumstance. To frustrate, to maim and to impassion. To make you who you are meant to be...sedated..."
Words of a poet tossed about by Absinthe, thought and his hookah pipe. Words written in haze with a tinge of lucidity. With trouble surrounding his essence he no longer feels a thing. He no longer allows entrance into his "being". He remains as he is meant to be...a man sedated. Sedated by the knowledge that all things will fall into place as they must. Sedated by the knowledge that destiny is destiny as fate is fate. Knocking on every door without allowing depression to set when they do not open. He's become even more resigned.
His Absinthe and his hookah pipe have become the knowledge of truth. The simple truth that peace will only come from the inside out. The place where perspective manifests itself into reality. What will be, will be...acceptance...
No comments:
Post a Comment