Dizzying Heights

February 9, 2010
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And just as the sun sets, the bricks must fall. The steel rusts, the wood chips, and the wrecking ball of life sweeps through the once-crowded house that was one called 'home'. The curtains, they fall down, the doors close. All of it must end. It all ends, but not on your terms. Never do you get to chose the fate; not of yourself, your lovers, your memories. It can't wait around forever, sitting idly by as you outgrow the tethers of childhood and the ropes start to fray, and fold back into the ground in which you walk upon as an adult. I was once a young boy, too: strapping and full of life. But it was a phase. An ethos, leaving my boyish body in vibrant ribbons of energy. But to run and play, to be wild, wilder than all the beasts of the forests, all the dangers of the world, that is what this life is all about. Who is afraid of the consequences? However sharp the knives, however dizzying the heights, you must face them! Make them mountains, if you must! That makes the adventure of conquering the molehill even more worth the while, for it is the things in life that you must explore as children that are the primal instincts of life, and there is nothing that can rob you of your lessons that have no proper teacher, no guided fingernails on the chalkboard that scratch and rip at the blackboard like lions at a dying zebra. These tigers will try to intimidate you, don't let them. After all, there is nothing to fear from paper tigers (except paper-cuts). The fears of the young are becoming old, and the fears of the old are the young, and the adolescence they used to have. And to youth! Be not afraid of age, embrace it. Love it, treat it as...a new youth. Who says that youth must end at a certain date or point in time? For the loves you once had, my daring generation, they will grow frail, their hair will turn snow white, fall from grace, their backs will bow and their health will dwindle. But you never let them slip from your loving hands, hold them until the silent breath leaves their glass frame. And to the Aged! ...Listen to those younger, full of reckless insight, of guiltless love, and ambitious endeavors. You could learn a lot from them. Sure its a backwards world, an I am a kind and humble civilian, painting its portrait for masses to view. But for who I am, I cannot say by name, nor not of phrase, for I am simply a vehicle, the man that walks along the borderline like a tightrope, wondering not of where the end of the rope is, but of which side I will fall upon, and at what point in my simple life. I am just a man, but my spirit is a child. That is what we all are.

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