The first wreckage

What do you write for your first blog? 

Where are the words when you need them, huh? 

What brought me here was a long-suffering, a desperation I suppose, as people we believe that eventually it'll all end - but what does that ending look like. 

Is it...a fantasy? 

A family?

Perhaps it's just silence...an echo of water filling your ears as quite is encased throughout our being, no way out. 

I'm in no way a saint, but how could our lives be such wreckage? Why is it that we live in the shambles of our ancestory mirrors? 

Perhaps the mad aren't really mad.... perhaps, just perhaps The Hatter was the most sane being we'd ever come across in our existence. He was a china vase wrecked and shattered to the finest of porcelain pieces...but he still held it together.

How is that?

As Alice once said: "I knew who I was this morning, but I've changed a few times since then." 

I keep changing. 

The world keeps spinning,

And Evenessence seems to be the only grounding structure left - understanding, a voice, the echo of the universe declaring that I am in fact HEARD.

"Hell is empty and all the devils are here" - Shakespeare spoke of truth. But what will we do with these devils?

Face them?

Destruct them?

Drown them out?

- Perhaps the world needs an exorcism.

Or will we find that one person who when we're near them we're free to say that even if the devils shout they have no choice but so sit down and shut the hell up as soon as they enter the room.

Perhaps tomorrow will hold the answer, but then again, tomorrow's usually a bitter cup of tea with a stale baked scone. 

Keep wondering, wonderers...keep wandering.