Never till the end

And in this our world we spy the words and images that make us who we are. While gorging our minds with media and news we don't notice reality pass us by on golden wings calling to us from afar. So for this day this hour this minute we have a truth to tell the world that might listen, may care, could see, what would be if our imagery could reflect the scope of our thoughts. The clouds tell more than the sun as it burns our days to dust and ruin, etching its radiation into our souls and coming out of us in each exhalation of air to be eaten by plants and regurgitated into more fuel for the fires. Into the self we must dive and hold our collective breaths so not to drown in the murk and grime we hold so dear. But for today, again, we feel what we touch, believe what we see, taste what we chew and swallow our pride to wake up and smell the caffienated future on the horizon that wanders ever farther for all that we strive to catch it. As in this and all things we can grasp the meaning we have a sixth sense for, call it faith or intuition or meaningless gabble, we know that the future isn't ours at all, but someone elses past. The acid that drops upon our eyes as we stare in wonder at the irony and sarcasm of age, bleeds away the imagination and openness of youth to lie in an ugly stain on the rug we blame on our pets who are our only friends. For as we ride in this rudderless canoe down the river lethe in hopes of one day forgetting that we can't remember who we are, we stop being our own friends and start being our own parents, trying to keep ourselves "out of trouble" and on the "right track." And so never till the end do we know the lies we tell ourselves and each other, to live by, to cry by, to love by...