Don't know the title, but random words do make a blog...

Ever get the feeling that something big is around the corner? Like ants crawling around the bend towards a pot of honey built within an empty city? Then again, there is nothing wrong with being part of a herd. The herd is protection - protection from consequence, protection from choice, protection from change. But sometimes, there's nothing wrong with change. At the start of each day, if we choose to remember what is lost, then everything we see today becomes tainted by the drive to preserve. If we are free of inhibition, then the world is crystal clear.

There is something weird in the hollow march of tin soldiers. Further compounded by the rattle of rain on the rooftops of a shallow world. From the din of organization to the sin of information, we are doomed to follow the tracks of a mythical creature towards a goal that does not exist.

The moment of clarity is the sound of the sliver of glass cutting through a mist of human emotion. There is no right or wrong - only the judgement of myopic moments. And myopic indeed are our judgement, for who has seen beyond the next frame? But in the moment, can we make a tough call and still be without regret? For everyone who tells me they feel no regret, I see liars who choose to remain stoic or else I see cowards who've never taken a tough call. We make tough calls when we judge something valuable against something valuable. Either way, you lose. When you lose something valuable, you begrudge yourself the loss. You regret it.

No one is an island. But sometimes, we are the temple of our echoes. Vast empty spaces, where the resonance of our ideal is our sole attempt at existence. On this path, the echoes travel far and wide, but in the end the echo dies out. Nothing would remain of the echo, not even the memory. Did it in fact trigger a new sound? Did it spawn a new thought? The echo is all it is...all it will ever be.

Random words can be something better than the construct-driven will of the writer.