Friday, 31 January 2014
Oh These Withered Hands
I could have just said dry hands but that wouldn't do justice to how I feel at the moment. Whenever I look down at my hands they seem to be staring back at me shrivelled and weather-beaten. They're not just dry, they're withered. Do my hands have a life of their own? Aging faster than the rest of me? No matter how many times I moisturize them they still stare back at me with the same wrinkly expression. Oh well, in the grand sphere of things what does it matter. The bigger question is why am I dedicating a blog post to my wizened hands. I'm not sure. There is no reason really. Except that it led me to wonder why I would insist on labouring over something that never actually produces me any results. If I look back at the last ten years of my life nothing I predicted came true. In fact the complete opposite of most of my predictions happened. But for some reason I never took note until recently. I never stopped watering all the seeds I had planted. Is man doomed to forever live a life of oblivion? This is sad for me. How will I ever reach enlightenment. The truth is, those seeds are too precious to me. They all connected me with God in some way or another. Even if it's been ten years, I just don't have it in me to stop watering them. Do you understand? The Universe must I am sure of it. Well... maybe one day Lulu will completely fade out. But then maybe she won't. Guess that's a risk I'll have to take.
May good things be always near. In hopes we lie, my dear.