Beauty is to be cherished, but then it can engulf and strangle. And it has an acutely merciless way of showing one his indigence. And worser still, it leaves a trail in it's wake which dictates sudden, gratuitous cravings. It's ubiquitous, they say, but only if one has the key to clear the mist and the vision to look beneath trivialities. I, for once, am in agreement.

Let this be a tiny little scratch on an ocean of white- smithereens of many preceding attempts at recommencing this dormant journal. The night is long, the unrest never-ending, the imaginarium a blighted ruin urging restoration. The rigmarole of justifying the rationale of a substantial existence has withered me of any trace of vitality perhaps. The soul accuses the mind of calculated oppression while the mind sites detachment and sagacious indifference in it's defense. As hard to comprehend as it may seem, there are actually two if not three of me, us. My destiny and hence, my fight is to unite them in their purpose.