Looking forward to the future, but there is nothing to see other than what is directly in front of me.
I can’t predict the future, but perhaps I can if I look at the way the light falls from a different angle than usual.
I need to fold into myself and stretch out the day as a form of paper, then scribble the thoughts of which are not mine. There are many a reason as to why I would do this, but the most important one is by dint of necessity.
Of course, so long as the beach is my poster, I could surely break through the mould and then push my way into the scene, only to watch the waves as they fall upon the shoreline and displace the sand in the most subtle of ways, unless you perceive the time passing in a much more detailed manner than most.
There are clouds that drift, but they are few and far between as the sky retains a strong hue and stretches on forever in a way that we do not always think about, but of course.
The course that is run on the day will forever be known to those as the course that will forever be run on that day.
There are windmills and they must not be persecuted. There are journeys that could only be experienced rather than forced. This is a consideration that needs to be considered, for the forcing of many forced things is upon us and we need to know when to and when not to go forward, but there is only one direction in which we can go forward. It needs to be considered.
Among my desk are millions of crevasses. The surface appears smooth, but underneath my arms as I type stretches out a rugged landscape of rock and dips and rises, and the vastness of eternity is only a mere thought; a blip on the radar. My arms are massive and I am just one person, but the desk under my arms is far greater than I could ever perceive. It is a landmass waiting to be explored. There are sensations awaiting there that are fascinating and revealing, and I can only hope that I will be able to comprehend them in some way.
If only there was a way more than some that would mean that there are more ways than two, which would hopefully mean that there are four more ways than three, which of course…
Leads to another direction. It leads to a junction in time where the fork must be repealed in order for those pesky mugs of frothy dirt can foam and meet and lead to another new fork that is not just a fork, but also a new way of doing the things that are needed to be wanted in order to breathe in and out, and fill lungs with the fresh, salty air that is being carried by the waves and the light breeze.
The time it took to write five-hundred words: 05:45:46
One day I will have greater coherence in these.
Written at work.