ALL THINGS MUST PASS...

The dream is broken, the petal is crushed. There is a fly on my arm, it licks moisture from my skin with its tasselled tongue... It's cold outside, grey frosty skies, dull nature - all the colour bled out of it by the season...but the grey has seeped inside, into the house, rooms bled of warmth, vigour, focus...and seeped into me, grey, dull, unprovoked, undesirable. What is it about dreams of grey, of alienated/alienating procedures mounting up those layers of grey? We are crushed petals, we are delicate glass vessels stamped underfoot. We are smeared into the mud of time. But hey, we still persist despite all and everything...we still persist. So dreams may be broken, journeys dull and seemingly void, friendships cracked, and moments torn....but we are still here. We still smile for better days, which always come sometimes, for someone - and that is the purity of joy.