Striving into another..

The stars are not wanted now, put out every one.
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to good.

To know ones self, or to have a place of solace within such troubled times is sure to bring a sense of comfort and belief. But what happens to those lost souls who are adrift, wandering through the world with a veil to cover their eyes. In what do they take comfort? Do they find pleasure in pain, to see the red blood run out through their veins? Do they find comfort in solitude, to spend hours alone with silence as the only sound? Do they find comfort in the things yet unknown, the wonders they hope to come yet know are never to be composed? Or do they find a way to build upon the lives they lead, to bring about sense of being, a sense of worth and compassion. For this is at the very core of the lives we lead, the need to have something worth living for. I, however, am yet to find this seed; this burning desire, all consuming passion.

All I know is; all we ever want is someone to listen, to take note, to understand.