tales in all its clashing beauty and ugliness

I've been pondering about my life and so many things, tales in all its clashing beauty and ugliness, of sublimity and hellishness, rage against the dying of the light, and the will to bring to the very pore the pulsations of life itself. Talk about the things in ways that do not just vastly entertain, but in ways in fact that provoke me to ponder and reflect.

I stumbled upon the spectacle of the impermanence of things and of the spirit flowering long after the flesh wither. Life itself is always challenged, and we are always drawn to stand the test of time and rise out of the muck. The very subliminal pitch of our own life's rally is that at the end of the day, we may enlighten the unseen in the grandest sense, and thrust the light powerfully towards the darkest corners.

The human worth is not found at the end of a life, it is found in the course of it. While i could use all the time as vast as the dessert to find the victory and defeat in the course of my very own struggles, i could at times see the world with unfamiliarity, or with that strangest familiarity of half-forgotten perceptions and sensations. Finding my worth is at times a haze.

As the world slowly wound down, the muttering retreats of our ragged lives drive us all home to the point that it is one thing to know something with our heads, but it is quite another to apprehend it with our five senses.