We exist in a period of undeniable unrest.
We are inundated with a plethora of messages each & every minute.
This ōv(ə)rəˈbənd(ə)ns of messages will overwhelm the most disciplined mind without a proper understanding of discretion & discernment.
Leading to chaos, blossomed from the battlefield of the mind. Spawning optical illusions which omit the forest from trees. While removing the scent from flower.
Bringing pitfall to those blinded by the flashing lights, buzz feeds, tweets, dms & chirps.
Trapped in perpetual unrest. Removed from an inner sanctum filled with peace.
Most… unaware of it’s perpetual existence. Nonetheless, impacted by its presence in some way — for better & worse.
Lost in the vast emptiness that accompanies pain.
In denial about that sinking feeling… Afraid to admit the trepidation exist within:
Too proud to admit that they can’t see the path to progress.
Instead… acting out with a digital foot print of babel. Which occasionally causes some to come unscrambled, lost with no compass: Broken without awareness of preexisting injury.
Blindly leading, or led to a maelstrom. That torments… Ill equipped for the inescapable pressure — with disdain for the message & the messenger…
The pressure will compound or release… Arkham, Mayhem, or a Return To Sense:
An escape from complacency & an avoidance of pain.
The lonely road less traveled across proverbial hot coals that doesn’t seem it… but is immeasurable better than:
“A Blinded Man’s Ditch.”
“The purpose of a storyteller is not to tell you how to think, but to give you questions to think upon.”