Mission Statement

Strength, a dence emotion, a hole
Behind my ribs, in my stomach,
My temples, my fingers, strength
From this hatred, this helplessness,
This--I'm lost.
I can't beleive in any single thing
One voice may know the truth,
But it falters, breaks or speaks impurity.
The other seems to pick up where the
First left off, but only half-truth break from
Those lips.
And them, the masses, the neverending flood
Of voices, dirty, disilusioned, tortured, miserable
Will they ever listen, will they ever see?
It would be beautiful if this mess had a happy ending,
But it won't. There are no
No way to reverse the truth.
And I can see, they are just like me.
One step in the wrong direction and my
Molded by circumstance, by tradgedy, heredity, weakness,
The survival of the fittest is cruel to them.
Even the fit do not win in the end.
And so I am trapped,
Squeezed so hard the pressure flattens my lungs,
Between cowardly, soft optimism,
The notion to beleive in the good which is not there,
The false fragile strength that dies when pushed just a little,
And two-faced, sweet pessmism,
The numbing poison which steals all light from my weak, light-loving body,
The false sence of strength, of rebellion to it all,
I'm trapped.
From these emotions, these experiences,
There must be something to learn,
There is a way to attain true strength.
True calm.
True sight.
True rest.
Trapped between the devil and delusion, the only thing left to do is survive.
Forget the meaning of life,
I want to know the meaning of strength.

July 3, 2003.