Chasing Rainbows

Allow me to paint you a picture.
Imagine yourself walking though a courtyard in the gentle mist. This soft, soothing rain puts no snap in your step, but intead stalls your stride. Your blood slows to a calming pace and your philosophic mind escapes to a nostalgic enclave. Your eyes become wider, equipped to receive all visual delicaces surrounding you. And as those eyes peer northward, they observe one of the world's greatest mysteries.

From whence the time we could comprehend it, Man's adoration of rainbows has allowed these polychromatic mysteries turn to fairytale. "Pot of Gold!" they'd tell us, "That's what you'll find." And since then we've found ourselves inexplicably drawn to its secrets. We fight the urge to drop all that we do, redirect our course; just to spend a few moments in its subtle light.

And yet, disregarding the disance, I find myself with an adventurer's heart, longing to venture forward toward my own personal, existential rainbow. I constantly find the urge to drop all I do, take time away from my life, just to have her in my arms, like a secret rendezvous. Alas, I am here and She is there, and the everlasting sting of watching others so carelessly caressing their significant others only does so to further the distance between us, and lengthen the time before our next encounter. But I'd rather be chasing rainbows than be rushing through the mist.

From the Ashes

Here I am, here, again trying to reignite a part of me that lay dormant, yet restless inside the inner chakras of this beaten soul. Through all the events of the last year, I'm not quite sure where to start.

So, like any philosopher would, I'll start at the end.

For someone who so long preached to reach for the highest heights of the reachable ideals of being creative and innovative, I feel like I've lost touch with all that is beautiful in this world. This hardened shell, enveloping my body and soul, rendered me invulnerable to the influence of the invigorating nature of nature. The majestic, magnetic beauty that surrounded me was unable to permeate my defenses, and all I could feel was the damp, cold darkness coming over me.

I had forgotten the definition of the most alluring feeling in the world: love. This tangible tangent congruent in all our ordinary lives is that which inspires us, and sad to say, this old Revolutionist has lost his inspiration, his fire to fight on for what he believes. Lost in this state of purgatory, this lazy, listless soul has wandered oblivious and impervious to the warmth. The music that had before inspired me, and has been a lifeblood is the same that has resurface to recover me from my comatose state.

I can't affirmatively confirm a certain time or place in which such an occurence occured, but like moths to old scarves, I felt butterflies in my stomach; that old feeling's come back. Melody met with Harmony once again, Rhythm and Rhyme returned, and this rendezvous has led to my reawakening. Who could fathom how deep music can reach inside us? Who knew that one day the choir would inspire the tired and idle. "From the ashes a phoenix is reborn" means that at one point, that same phoenix chose to remain as ashes; we must learn from our past in order to realize that maybe we shouldn't remain in the state we're in. Let's constantly move forward into the future, encountering that which we do not know. We've but experience and wisdom to gain.