Some time I like wasting time. Awake, tied to the stake. Asleep, too much to fake. A middling state of grace, consciously unconscious or unconsciously conscious. You ponder, wonder or wander. Think of nothing and something will come to mind. Think of something and nothing will come to mind. A destination may be clear, but a road is always clouded, crowded and lauded for being the best way. There has to be another way, another play, another stray.
From where I sit, the horizon is a straight line, yet I know what I see to be false. The Earth is a sphere, curved in every which way. The horizon bends away in front and off to both sides of me. Three curves, all seemingly straight to me. Three dimensions on a two dimensional aspect of my reception. There’s a conflict. I know it. Despite all my efforts, I will not be able to see the roundness of the planet, the horizon.
I don’t believe everything I see. I don’t believe everything I think. I don’t believe everything I read. I don’t believe anything on television. A million angles to every thing. A millions rights. A million wrongs. The answer is a wash, zero, nothing, meaningless. For every one who will give, there is one who will take.
Knowing this does not motivate bliss.