The Electric Bill

The minute hand on the grandfather clock rotates into that long awaited vertical position. That short little hour hand is finally all covered up. The clock hasn’t been wound in quite a while. The gears strain in order to chime that low note. Once. Twice. Thrice. Each gong seems to be farther from the last. After what seems like eternity that twelfth note is heard. Head rested on your soft pillow; you close your weary eyes. You are unable to find that sleep you so long for. You realize that after neglecting to wind the grandfather clock for so long, it has ceased to tick. But that isn’t why you can’t sleep. You open your eyes. Somehow you have forgotten to turn off the ceiling light. After sliding out of bed and meandering over to the wall, you try to flick the switch into the off position. It won’t budge. Too exhausted from your day, you realize the only thing you can do is turn the dimmer switch to its lowest setting. You slip back into bed and once again shut your eyes. You can’t help but wonder why the switch was stuck in the on position. Then it dawns on you that the light shouldn’t be on regardless of the switch because you haven’t paid the electric bill. Deciding that it isn’t worth the strain of thinking about at this moment you dismiss the subject matter and drift to sleep. Unbeknownst to you, someone has been watching over you. That person is the one who’s taken care of the electric bill.

Beyond Control

Empathy entwined in cruelty
A highly malleable substance
It contracts in the most spectacular moments
It expands when agony rears its head
Ever-lingering in the most miserable circumstances
Never to be found when so desperately needed
Crunching tight in the most frantic instances
Stretching over infinite plains in the darkest storm

Akin with so many a manmade apparatus
It is meant to be controlled and quantified
As with so many a manmade device
It takes charge of the weak of spirit and will
Along with so many a manmade implement
It evolves into a serpentine form

It coils and entraps
It bites and poisons
It opens wide and devours
It slithers and disappears

Where is the cunning scientist to rein in this strange element?
Where is the fearless wrangler to defang this viper?

A Quest

Reaching the end of the line
Purpose still hidden from view
For aeons I have tread this path
Questions arise and never are answered

I have traversed the cosmos
A thirst for knowledge, never quenched
A plethora of information acquired
But the pinnacle is yet to be reached

Weary, am I
Frustrated, am I
Intrigued, am I
Close, am I

The final realization so near
Finally within my grasp
Pushing onward with great strain
The zenith of my efforts

Reaching out with ecstatic joy
I have found what I so longed for
Satisfied, I can live and be content
The quest is over, yet a new path is uncovered

To convey what has been learned, I cannot
Each must attain this on his own
If truly desired it will be found
And with it, true solace will be obtained

Reflecting

You swing the door open and step inside. You walk down the narrow corridor lined with mirrors. At first you aren't aware of the mirrors, but after a few short steps you begin to glance to your side, seeing your reflection. As you move along, the mirrors slowly begin to distort your reflection. You pass by two young women. One is beautiful and slender. She gazes helplessly at a short and rather large woman. On the opposite wall of the corridor, is the other. This one is quite the opposite of the first, unsightly and overweight. She however, sees a gorgeous, shapely figure looking back at her. Past these two are a three average looking young men. They are all taking looks at each other's reflections. The boys on either side appear in the mirrors to be slightly larger, significantly the head. They both seem quite pleased with themselves. The center reflection shows a wiry figure. This young man seems to be greatly disappointed, the laughs of those on either side of him compounding this feeling.

Ahead of you is now a group of young men and women. They are looking into a new assortment of mirrors. Some are foggy, some rippled, and some kaleidoscope-like among others. They seem to be having a genuinely good time. Although, you notice a few aren't having the best of times. One man standing there, looks tired and disheveled. Another is obviously exaggerating his enjoyment. As you approach the crowd you notice two or three of the people aren't interested in this section of mirrors. They are simply talking amongst themselves. Those on the far side seem to be making their way further down the corridor, for one reason or another. You decide to bypass the crowd and continue along the corridor.

You find yourself at a point of divergence. The corridor now forks into three paths. The corridor to the right is brightly lit. In it stand people who are fairly content with what they see in the mirrors. Most of these mirrors create multiple miniature reflections of the viewers that seem to grow larger farther along the path. You find this trail to contain the most viewers. You begin to walk towards it but take a glance down the other halls. The left hand corridor is dimly lit. The mirrors show enlarged reflections of the viewers. The people on this path all seem to be pleased with what they see. Realizing that this seems to be a pleasing road, you enter into it. You notice the sound of laughter, not mocking laughter but a genuinely happy laughter. When the sound meets the ears of those in the corridor, faces turn sour and almost angry. You are now rethinking taking this causeway and opt to investigate the center corridor. As you travel down the comfortably lit pathway, you look to either side. The mirrors to your left and right are semi-transparent. You see yourself without distortion. You also can see those in the adjacent halls. You stroll along this path leisurely and thoughtfully.

You slowly grow exhausted and your pace slows. The mirrors do not display the focus they previously had and are gradually turning opaque. Finally, you find yourself at an arched door. At first you are reluctant to open the door. You reflect on what you've seen throughout this long walk. Part of you does not want to move onward, but you resolve that one cannot dwell in a hall of mirrors forever. Grasping the knob and drawing a deep breath, you slowly open the door and pass through the soffit.

Cognicycle

Within the confines of the mind there lives a creature of deceit. Moving nimbly in between thoughts, it carefully dictates the workings of the subconscious. Slowly but surely it spins the silk of desire, building the framework for suffering. Beginning to intertwine fantasy with impulse, logic fades into the dark recesses of the psyche. As it weaves its web of inevitable pain a notion of clarity flutters by, only to become ensnared. Injected with the venom of lie, it plummets into chasms of ideals long forgotten. Eventually a seemingly myriad wave of epiphany sweeps across the dreamscape, casting the sinister thing and its prodigious abode into purgatory. Order is restored to the process of thought. Clarity reigns supreme, but not forevermore. For the seed of doubt can never be fully purged. All in due time, the cycle will continue, and the light will be veiled once more.

Gray

What is true and what is false?
Everything comes down to perception
People tend to view things in black and white
Often they see only in the way they want
Some only see the black
While most only acknowledge the white

To see the white is to see the love,
happiness, and fulfillment in the world
To see the black is to see the sorrow,
pain, and suffering of this life

To fall on either side is to be blind
To dwell on the anguish is pitiful
To accept bliss is ignorant

Between the dark and the light
Therein lies the truth

Those who advance
Those who flourish
Those who comprehend
Those who truly live
Exist only in the gray