Courage II by Kean Kelly

Life is full of beauty until it is not.


Everything is not as it is. There's a mood of dissatisfaction permeating across the surface of this place. There's a mood of anticipation and new beginnings too. Chaos simmering in the midst of tranquility.

Then there's raw existence, daily toil, the feeling of being alive, content and the feeling of being tossed aside.

Have you ever really taken a close look at your life? And the lives of people around you. Have you sifted through the layers of human noise and find that lingering ghost of fear that comes haunting each one of us when all the good parts have run out.

It's chilling when this apparition appears once in a blue moon but when its visits become religiously daily you find that strength seeps energy and soon desensitization to repetitive scare sets in, that is, up until you get distracted. Forgetfulness keeps you sane.

Sustained suffering seems momentary, isn't it? Couple this with intense anxiety, you'll see yourself break apart at the seams, not so different from the mad man yelling at the air. Nothing seems right or feels right.

How does anyone reach a point of perfect contentment I may never know but my guess would be just that we all grow conditioned, habituated, to the various peaks of life. There's the beginning and the end. Then, there's that illusion of never-ending time stuck in between.

While peace seems to hover about the outermost layer of our lives, we're all on borrowed time. On the occasion we forget, we call life pure witchcraft-y magic, short and sweet. Contrasting it to something completely unknowable, don't we ever feel cheated?

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