The Existance Of Thoughts (An Introduction To A Strange Reality)

I once dug too deeply for the answers to questions that weren’t entirely meant to be answered. The sort of intolerable entity’s in secrets that haunt you regardless of whether you act to have them opened or not. But the real question is simply, to be, or not to be.

Yes, of course, I can guess what your thinking. But having bestowed such thought into this simple and used up cliche, I’ve found that the truth of it is packed securely within my own understanding and ideological insight. To me, this Shakespearian quote has something of a double meaning. Or perhaps even an endless use for explanations too fine printed to seek out an exact definition for all of our shrewd dilemmas that have become too hazed over with personal complications to see the black or the white mantle of persona.

Am I to be, or not to be? Not to be slandered with shallow descriptions of where, what, when and why. Such petty revelations that only accomplish themselves to be tossed about for self tortured aspires of mind plunging determination. Or is it a matter of simply existing without answers. To be swallowed in a maze of fantasizing what-ifs and wishfully born disasters. I certainly don’t wish to enchant myself with meaningless false deliveries. Nor to wave frantically with the whipping snap of the white surrendering banner that gloats before us all as if mocking the arrogant affairs of poor mankind.

My will has taken a vision in form that will last long through the spiraling trails towering high in the roads of a gigantic sky. Here were the clouds reach tantalizingly close to the limitless cosmos. In the poetic soul of every demanding desperation. In the choices of which we all must exist. In a strange reality.