What have I become? Where have I ended up in this...place? Am I feeling poetic or is this a scramble to hold onto what little left I feel I have. Has all of this become a fading memory that will take it's seat next to the few I have, that when I dredge up sets me free but in the same breath makes me sad to be in the here and now (because the here and now seems so pointless now doesn't it?). I have forgotten my way and wondered along a path...I do not write anymore. I do not discover. I do not walk and wander. I have no adventure. I am a solitary tinkerer chipping away at the fabric of a system. I am a builder constructing a new foundation and have forced myself to lay these bricks, one by one, so that one day, whatever it is I am creating can reach into the sky. I shall return...bolder, brighter, richer, refreshed. At my side new weapons to take on what it is I have, long ago, set forth to discover and discover it I will.
This other eye blind.
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