Revitalization's Weblog

For the curious, questioning, and wandering soul

Archive for sun

beautiful day in the bay

beautiful day in the bay

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Golden

Sunshine poured down from above, golden honey, glorious luminance, bathing stretches of vibrant green, alive with life. Dense and robust, the fields greedily soaked in the light, stretching upwards and upwards, reaching for the sky.

Mercy of Nature

And here we are, here we find ourselves once again. At the mercy of nature and it’s astounding power, it’s beauty and it’s wrath, it’s fearsome complexity. And while we stand so tall and while we dream so large, nature takes it back in a moment, making men into minisculity once more. Forever reminding us that we are simply a spec in the universe, whipping around the sun again, and again, and again, and again…

A mash-up

Reaching, kneeling down. Arms high above, hands even higher, muscles tighten. Reaching for something higher, but what? Trying to grasp the sky, trying to clench the sun, trying to hold onto clouds. A look of strained despair and subtle defeat, growing minute by minute.

Slowly defeat conquers, and it utterly drains.

 

These are pretty bad times; a funk that I can’t get out of, I can’t seem to pinpoint the start and I can’t foresee the end—all I know is times were better before, and I hope they get better soon. I dread the idea that the best times of my life have long passed. Right now, I’m overdue for some good, life-changing, eye-opening good.

 

The holidays, known for family, friends, and warmth and love, aren’t so this year. I recall other years where December was a great time! I used to feel on top of the world—I was pretty, and likeable, lovable, and popular. I had people. Now, I can’t help but to feel bipolar, trying to superficially get along with him and her, wishing that this superficial love and adoration would suffice and transform to a reality. But it is so not working.

 

I think I’m just in a bad place, I’m not being honest with myself. Every night I go to bed with such a defeated spirit, and every morning I wake up, feeling like today I could change the pattern, I could be good and true, today could be the day!—but I cannot even convince myself to believe that its feasible. And so I lie, to myself mostly. And, within an hour or so, the day becomes sour—words are exchanged, tears drip, harsh tones become permanent. I missed the sweet voices I used to hear, I miss the laughter and playfulness—it’s never as genuine as it used to be.

 

The new year approaches, and as usual, we hope, and a united human race, that the next year will be better and brighter and lovelier than the last. But is it ever? I’ll try to hope so, I’ll try…but every year, it’s harder and harder to be optimistic…

 

Just know that I’m overdue.

Overdue for some life-changing and eye-opening good.