a whole lot of nothing, and a fistful of anything

swings and roundabouts.

i discovered something new, something fresh. My opinion has been changed, the world has revolved around me.

I think I know less and less about what is going on, and though i suspect schemers, it turns out that this is all you can expect from the 'other' gender.

- - -

Two men walked along the road to Certainty. They alternately talked and said nothing. The weather was pleasant. They came upon a sign post containing two signs pointing opposite directions: one in the directing in which they headed; one the opposite direction.

The sign pointing in the direction they headed was marked 'Truth'
The sign pointing in the opposite direction was also marked 'Truth'

They sat for a while contemplating this enigma.

"But if truth lies in both directions, why should we be engaged in walking towards 'Certainty'"
"Because if 'Certainty' lies in the direction we travel, surely we must be leaving 'uncertainty'"
"But both directions lead to truth. Why should we be focused on what we are certain of?"
"Wouldn't you rather be sure?"
"Doesn't being sure spoil the excitement of the unknown?"

- - -

Pawn to K5

- - -

Wouldn't you rather a nice game of chess?

- - -

The gentle whistling of the kettle pulled him out of a dream like state.
What had she meant. Was this really the start of something? or just another mind game.
Mind games were a paradox, in some ways exciting. But frustrating when you remembered that you would never have any idea what was going on until someone sat you down and explained it all too you.

- - -

I think I just always assume that 'that is the way things are'. I hardly ever stop and think, maybe it shouldn't be this way. Perhaps this is all horribly wrong.

Yes. Yes it is. I have fallen and I can't get up, but at least the pain is manageable.

- - -

The pit is deep, but as I gaze skyward I know I can see the light. a slight pinprick which ever invades my sense of the depths to which I have plummetted. or perhaps not, perhaps I was always here, and all that changes is my pre-occupation with the light. sometimes I sit and watch it, bathing in it, feeling it grow, feeling myself grow and change, other times I have turned away. gently sobbing or comforting the screaming voices in my head. Some yelling one thing, some yelling another. All this screaming. But as soon as i turn back to the light, it dissipates. why is this? what magical properties does the light have.? why do i insist on turning away when sometimes I have just reached a point of true serenity.

- - -

Open hand, grasp at dagger. Yank. extract dagger. blood spurts out covering my hand and the latter portion of my chest. I feel a slight sinking feeling. Crumble to the floor. I look at my hand, covered in blood. My blood. I've never seen my blood before: at least not like this. There is a returning sense of my nakedness, exposed for the world to see. For they have demanded it. The price of rising to the top is always exposure "you spurt out red and turn so yellow, and then you make me kill my own" the truth comes out like so many litres of blood.
It is soothing though. Like all of the unspoken words and ignored tensions. It frees you like nothing else. Free to think, to feel, to breathe, to bleed. For it turns out that whilst I am naked, I am unashamed. Nothing can touch me now. Nothing more can be taken away. An irreducible minimum. All I am left with is me.
Get up damn you, get up. I rise gently placing my weight a little on my sword before shifting it gracefully onto my aching legs. A new day appears to be dawning. A step: gingerly at first. A few more. I walk forward with my sword. Look down at the wound; at the blood. It is still flowing, but it has mixed with water. As I continue walking there is less blood pouring out and more water. finally there is a steady trickle of clear water. Look up, stride, stride. Look left others are rising. Not all of them, but enough... enough. Forward, press on to the goal. There He stands. Like a mighty warrior surveying the damage he has wraught forth.
But a strange thing happens. As I walk forwards and point my sword, he seems to get smaller. Perhaps it is only perception. I stop just in front of him. I glare at him. His nostrils spurt forth whisps of clouds. Others fall in behind me. We raise our swords in unison, and plunge them down deep into the earth.
A silence follows.

suddenly a noise. a screeching noise. Look up. He is screaming. clutching at his chest. His chest. Something is coming out. There is a roar in the distance, getting louder. Like a thunderstorm approaching the coast. Louder until even the high-pitched screech is not enough to compete with it. Louder. Louder. We rise, and as we rise we feel the shock. Look down massive shockwave. everything is flattened, all is laid to waste. But we are held tight. We are raised up.

- - -

Everything must change
theres a mirror showing me the ugly truth
these limbs they ache with holy fire
but i've got nothing to give
just a life to live...

- Delirious?

- - -

nothing is seen, for all good things are hidden until their appointed time.