Stream of Subconscious

Life can pull you down. Pull you into a thousand slow burning pieces. Then the very things that fell apart slowly flow toward anarchy. To lament in the sea of chaos is to be down and out swallowed by a bruise. But one can always choose. New inspirations can make one see each puzzle piece of the things that fell apart are seeds of forward momentum. Every hurt, leaves a cut, a scar. There is always a flip side to this negative which rests in virtuous blessed marks. Marks in the road that lead you to where you are, in-between the thick of a coveted heart. Moving forward into the abyss, with a little candle is better, than all the volcano scars of all our troubled pasts.