posted on Jul, 18 2012 @ 06:45 AM
That sums it up for me until my writer's block ceases.
I don't know what I try to gain from writing, if I try to gain anything at all. I usually put poems together with imagery as my brain sees fit,
though half of the time I predict that nobody will understand the imagery that I painted and weaved from my thoughts, and leave it at that, open for
This one is more abstract, but follows the wheel of time, perception of time and how like the title, Ouroboros is a snake or dragon swallowing it's
own tail, representing how things go on in a circular motion, from start to end, if that is even a spectrum of anything true beyond what the mind
craves. We look at all ends of the spectrum, love, fear, anger, glee, and on and on. Is it rational, or do our minds crave a rationality in all of
this, that we call life, and the game of waking up tomorrow, and remembering today as yesterday.
This makes little sense, but I hope the abstract imagery was enjoyable to devour.
I don't think that I write this stuff so much as it appears at my finger tips when ready.