It's really surprising to see this thread doing so well after all of the time that it went unused. I hope that you're all enjoying it, and using it as a helpful tool.

Anyway, I'd like to get some input on something I finished earlier for a new book that I'm working on. Like the one that is in production now, it has journal like entries that help it to progress as a story rather than just as poetry alone.

Please feel free to comment any way that you like, and be as honest as possible. Thanks so much in advance for your time. And as always, thanks for reading.

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Solitude and Silence: Pre-Dawn

Silence is prevalent this morning. My little island is wrapped in peaceful slumber, and this pleases me. The only noticeable sound is the quiet and gentle ocean breeze soughing softly through the trees. At this lovely stage of pre-dawn, contentment is not fiction but very much real.

It's been a long time since I could honestly say that my worries seem small and meaningless. The trials and tribulations of life have no meaning for the moment; only the steady sound of my breathing, and the effortless chain of thought that is bringing this new memory into being.

This pleases me as well...

It's strange to think back, and remember my turbulent and violent adolescence without wondering how that hateful and introverted boy became the man that I am today; strange to think that something so painful could bear such an exceptionally opposite point of view.

Something is happening to me, and for once I am not only unwilling to fight it, I am delighted and intrigued to discover that it as well pleases me very much. I have finished my record of those long and seemingly endless years. I have finished it to discover that my story is not yet complete, but only beginning.

I have never experienced love in the way that I am experiencing it now. I have no focal point for these emotions; no physical, tangible source, that can be given credit for this change in my reasoning. I have no particular catalyst that could possibly explain this sudden and unexpected difference in thinking. There is no "Special Someone." There is nothing different about my lifestyle, my family, or my friends. The difference is me...

But what has changed?

Perhaps with dawn my answer will arrive. And yet, perhaps an answer would only strip me of my newfound optimism and leave me cold and weak; left again to deal with all of the things that have no business troubling me.

I have come to believe that I will never be a rich man; such a thing holds no interest for me. Similarly, I find it harder and harder to see myself leading the same sort of life that the majority of the people I see have chosen for themselves. My appeal for objects that I cannot possibly keep forever has decreased as well. I have no need for expensive possessions; I have no need for an abundance of possessions either. My belly is full, and when it rains I have shelter. The clothes on my back, and in my drawer, have a little life left in them. And my friends and family are still here.

Was it without purpose that I endured the mental and physical torture that almost killed me? I should think not. Without that pain; that chaotic stage of my life; I would have never grown to appreciate the things that need to be appreciated.

I have come to terms with my own existence. I no longer question it's reasoning, instead I strive to give it one of my own. I patiently wait for my term on this level to be complete, and impatiently I wait to see what lies beyond. Is it another world? Perhaps it is another dimension. One where all the laws and principles that hold this one together are unimaginable. There's no point in wondering, when an answer can never be reached, but I wonder regardless...

I won't pretend that there is nothing material that I want, or that I will buy for myself. I won't lie to you, or to myself and make a statement as transparent and ridiculous as that. But I have come to find that it is more fulfilling to want than to have. To have something, you must ruin the dream of acquiring it, only to find that there is something else that you want. And what you acquire will surly pass away in time. Perhaps to admire it from a distance is to truly have it forever.

For now, I want only to laugh and cry; to live and die...


And be remembered...


And this, above all else, pleases me very much.

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