(12:18 am, 10 Nov 2003)

Persistence withers away with time. Patience loses faith as moments drift by, miracles become illusions as hope fades into despair. The fear of nothingness fails to inspire passion, creativity becomes marred with melancholy, melodrama ceases to be the expression of silent emotions, thoughts lose track of sanity.

Confusion could be an easy description, but phasing out has more to it. Passive turmoil drains the mind of vitality, and deprived of all compassion, the soul embraces numbness, the body follows course, only to leave the self wondering, as to what struck the fortress of divine creation. Courage loses face, leaving sensitivity bereft of dimension, and sense devoid of empathy.

What remains is a hollow corpse, hanging onto the pretense of survival. Nature takes its course, fate as always is heartless. May be no expression of life, no promise of divinity, no hope of the non existent, can work the betrayal of humanity.

If only self could embrace reality, if only time could be forgiving, if only we could be them, if only us was strong enough, and yet if only it came easier. If only life happened better, if only destiny waited no longer.