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    Posted April 12, 2012 by
    This iReport is part of an assignment:
    Election 2012: Your stories

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    Precious are these seconds as they slip away

    Depressed is state of affairs today; vexed at multitude of opportunities completely imaginary resting on horizon. Fears of ineptitude hawk overhead, with stimulation varying in strength and type riding strong on this wave of uncertainty. Glory days in memory still attempting to live out what dreams remain in garden stuck. Time ticks ever forward as reminded by monotonous clicking sounds from clock prolonging hours in office but allowing self to realize still aware of surroundings. Sun rise, sun set; until no more noticed then cease it seems. Disturbing conclusions at end of train.

    Nights spent awash sunken on stool; an introvert, smoke lingering overhead presently entwined in such. Awoke to clothes reeked by nagging assumptions, little recollection of conversation if any really took place. Momentary lapse in judgment causation of side-step and glance around at talkative caricatures milking each minute to arrive at bridge yet cross improbable for what it’s worth, possibly nothing.

    Terrorists knocking down doors at night looking for criminals in a country where none are all but all are part, as can be described much if not totality of earth. These daily interactions run parallel with past, interpretation distorted or discarded entirely; history has been written, now mass ignorance so same mistakes taken as unique experiences falsely. It is impossible not to notice the stark similarities in speak uttered thousands of years ago and this morning. Same deterrents exist and exacerbate situation, stages of consciousness built with modern technology yet frozen in decay.

    Whole theories extinguished before flame has a chance to cast something new. It is not revered in this generation, free thought, though claimed to be. Most with genuine ideas are dismissed as insane or brought up on charges. Those that do cherish expression often garner unfavorable opinions, therefore shuttered into closet in hope that will be forgotten by society. It was once an esteemed position, the scholar, the studious deep-thinker who’s more content in silence pondering at times then at others converse about meaning rather than scripted reality. Perhaps lost, as all-mighty euro reigns supreme soon to be even conquered by yuan in world perplexing yet simplicities sensed everywhere which aggravate.

    Revelations come late this minute. Doth one take on the way it is or succumb to weight pressed on shoulders?

    I don’t know. But answer beyond fingertips must be reached, as precious are these seconds as they slip away.
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