Ramblings: Cyclones and Non-happenings.

Now Playing: Far Away From Here – Fabrizio Paterlini (Click on Player)

Words and I have run out of commonalities. I seem to have forgotten who I am, and what words mean to me. I seem to have lost directions and landed in the right way. How is it, though? How can I have lost my way to end up right where I belong? Words and I only gather at sadness and confusion. Never do we gather in happiness or fulfillment. They seem to control me, rather than me controlling them.

It is but the broken road that lead to here. Here is where every moment is spent in laughter. Here is where every second is spent in joy. Not every second of it, but every memorable one. Tonight, however, I go back to memory lane for one last visit. I go to memory lane to let it go. I stand upon my despairing memories and for once I control them. I overcome them. I do not fear them. I do not tear on them. I simply stand upon them and perhaps smile a bit.

The last weeks of my life have been but a complete temperamental cyclone. Though I have reached the road of happenings, I am still traveling. A traveler of hopes and dreams that one day I may accomplish. Never have I imagined that I would reach a night; as tonight, and not fear the power of my words. Never have I witnessed a time where words and I did not clash. Words flew oh so gently out of me, so painfully, so utterly, that I could not help but write some more.

Wounds seem to generate the words I write. While I stand here tonight, letting go of memories, I turn the pages of wounds and ever longing scars. I let go of not just memories – but words; Word that once were everything to me. Who am I; if not my words?

I could be mistaken. I might be too doubtful. But tonight, as hard as I tried, words failed. At moments, even words fail. But then, what shall I do, who will I be, and where will I go?

Preoccupied by fate, taken for granted by memories, stripped of truth, I am nothing but a hopeless rambler tonight, seeking words, not pain. My actions speak for themselves; Unloading the unloaded, fighting the unworthy, tampering with patience and pushing away the past. There goes the past; here comes the future, Oh – but the future. I fear of future, more than the past, for I have overcome the past – and unaware of the windy future.

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