My Writings

The Architect

Artwork: Calypso Noximera

I am the sole architect of my days. I sculpt them from nothing. I find myself increasingly displeased with my creations, as I seek perfection. There are few things to hold onto in the chaos that I have become, only the power of will remains to fight off the tide.

Lost… I wander aimlessly, struggling with the thought of what could be, and all the actions longing to be taken. Until an unmistakable, familiar feeling takes hold of me – the freedom of being. I instinctively reject its advice, because free will is a burden. One would feel so much lighter without it, but, since I have it, it must serve a purpose. And then, when I am not crushed by anxiety, oppressed by need or dragged down by unnamed turmoil, I experience true moments of progress.

In a state of flow, the stars seemingly aligned in perfect order and with the whisper of an unfamiliar friend, telling me that everything is at it should be, I create. Uncertainty fades away as I strip the time that I was given of all that is unnecessary until a statue of magnificent stature emerges. I behold in appreciation, knowing that the moment of satisfaction is fleeting and will soon make way to new worries.

Day to day my days change insignificantly, but, when I look back, I see memories of lives now foreign to me, alien. I must have grown then, because the images thrown at me from the past all appear childish and imperfect.

Safe in that thought, I live on.

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