You stand on the edge, staring into the abyss of routine. Daily life, draped in self-deception,
masques the rotten stench of dreams deferred. Below the surface lurks a current ready
to sweep you into the depths, tumultuous and unforgiving. You seek solace in echo-laden
rites, desperate to avoid the complex simplicity of those ugly truths. Hear them roar.
Feel them dissolve the lines drawn by tradition.
It's not the shadows that scare us most, but the unfamiliar truths they unearth.
Each ray of the sun is stained deep red at the fall of each challenge. An endurance
test.
When was the last time your heart raced for naked honesty? We obscure, we obscure
poignancy with the buzz of complacency. The reflex is akin to breathing, deliberate
and misdirected. Not rites, but thresholds crossed.