| | For what feels like forever now, I have been continually beaten into a mush of apathy... by none other than myself. In attempts to resurface my passionate self, I post lyrics to a song that gives me a rarely-felt motivation for, as the song puts, "my will to be". This will serve as a reminder to listen to the song that brings me a haunting conviction to live according to my ideals.
Winds - Passion's Quest
In the time of silence,
I saw a trace for my will to be.
While in the remnants of my heart,
I saw them shine through clouded eyes.
My time of silence represents, metaphorically, the extended period of apathy I've locked myself into, the lack of motivation to be productive in ways that satisfy my existence. My escape routes, detours, and road blocks I have put up for myself are all manners by which I've silenced myself. More literally, I have silenced myself by halting the one thing that gives me a sense of truly living: writing. I've been too afraid to translate my thoughts into words, because I increasingly find my words to be meager attempts to explain the storm of concepts, memories, and emotions that run through my veins. I still don't feel satisfied with writing for this very reason, but I have to live with that. There is no improvement without practice, I've come to realize.
My "will to be"-- in other words, my motivation to exist and function-- has made itself apparent again more recently, whispering ever-so-gently at my conscious and unconscious mind. A trace is all I need, but oftentimes this trace is ignored. What remains appears to be found in my 'heart', my emotional center. The imagery of clouded eyes literally causes me to shudder. I don't think I'd like to formulate words explaining why.
In the depths of the night
I reach beyond the brightest stars.
The darkness has hovered over me -- I've allowed such-- and the stars seem to become more distant the more I continue my existence lethargically. Somewhere within, there is a desire to reach beyond the "brightest stars", beyond even my fondest goals and ideals. As long as the stars can continue to be seen, there is the hope that I may reach out to the ones that shine brightly to me.
And I touch your wings with my remorse,
As I drain my fountain of spring.
My deepest reverence.
My exposed serenity.
This is perhaps the most chilling part. The thoughts conjured up by "drain[ing] my fountain of spring" bring anxiety and I must not contemplate too long on what in that statement causes my fear. I am not too afraid of aging-- it is inevitable and I accept it-- but rather, I am afraid of aging apathetically. Almost deliberately, the guitars here become frantic and disorderly. I never want to lose the everlasting wonder I have for the world, no matter how frequently or heavily it may go into hibernation. "My remorse" is directed towards God, for taking His dearest gift of life for granted.
From the depths of my boundless heart,
I pledge myself to thee.
A reaffirmation to live my life with the sense of wonder, to subtract the fear of my past and future failures, and to move forward only with a pure readiness, an authentic desire to do my work.
My days of novelty have decayed.
I find myself at the end of infinity,
I gaze to see the angels.
As grim (and ambiguous) as it may seem, I interpret this portion obscurely, in ways that both frighten me to action and leave me with a sense of positive resolution. The "days of novelty" describe the existence I've been leading. However, underneath the surface and in the few instances of written introspection, there brewed an elixir more involved, more passionately seeking, more empathetic, more curious, more, more, more. It simply wanted more -- and this needs to become my cure of choice. This needs to be manifested more strongly to myself than it has in the past. There is no way out of my lack of passion than by enduring a quest for it: passion's quest.
The "end of infinity" may be the end of what seems to have been a lifetime of apathy. The angels offer me a deliverance that needs to be realized, one that can no longer be taken for granted. There is no foreseeable end to what I've set out to do, only the continual attempt towards an existence more pure. And if I could spend the rest of my life using up all the extractable effort in me, to no avail or no result, then that is all I could ever ask for. I simply want the opportunity to try, and the passion for the journey. |
| | Posted 2/13/2009 1:47 AM - 4 Views
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