My Subjective Perspective

Grounded and soft, settled and comfortable. Established and not at all willing to discard what you have in favor of something more. This is a mode I do not inhabit. I do not know this life. I do not value it. I value anger and drive, frustration and anguish. I value emphatic change. I value passion. I can't remain the same, and so the top keeps on spinning.

Diving right in, why value anything? Is it simple to preference reality? Would it be: develop perspective in scrutinizing a thing? Bond these two: your conscious, intangible ideal with the physical or abstract thing to be perceived. How? Strings, I see strings, some thin and feeble, others thick and steadfast. Wouldn’t I aim to cut them all down? Flail madly and have them wrapped around to conceal my nakedness. These are the ends of my consciousness, now separate and free to catch the breeze. You will not touch these. Not now, not when it is so close. I see without my eyes. Come wash over me, my Noontide.

Consistently inconsistent with my interpretation. Maybe I'm nobody. Maybe I'm nothing. In the end, none of this matters at all.

Where is calm? Where is still?