My thoughts are too abundant for the this one trick brain. I need an expansion of capacity only. Not that I have any misconceptions to the nature of this mystery. The more you become aware, the more you wonder what you should be excluding.
I want to find myself in a desert. I want to be painfully thirsty. Why? It seems like in its desperate agony, it would offer focus. Maybe I'd be good with any legitimately overwhelming struggle. I probably just settled on a desert metaphor, because I live in a city built on a desert.
Focus. What is it? Hold on....nope. I still don't have it. Though I wear this burden with a lighter heart than you may believe, and the lesser of two difficulties is at hand here, I struggle with what is a blessing and what is a curse nowadays. Shouldn't analyzation be the compass to navigate me to the oasis? I find it more of a quicksand then a porthole, though I'm more adept at analyzation than a simple thought. I can focus on none and yet conceive more than all. Now I believe we have a sandstorm folks. Winds blowing interference around what is otherwise a beautiful landscape. (excuse the sentence fragment)
Perfection in example. Contingencies override accepted standards. Your north is my east. My advance is your downfall. Your incapability is my strength. My strength is my downfall.
And so I'm left with a simple dollop of sand. Maybe I'll fashion a glass house and add some ants. The precision and intricacy enthralls me. Though as happens within me often and thus would be expected in any ant farm I preside over, the shakes and sifts would be so frequent, the efforts would be only to maintain movement. Upwards, downwards, backwards, forwards, but never nowheres. Is direction a prerequisite? I feel unqualified to decide. Motion is all I'm willing to invest in.
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