Dreadnought
04-25-2007, 07:58 PM
Short little thought that I took notes on , intended to be short and "cute".
On The Transition from Day to Night, Night to Day
Why must we differentiate between the seasons of the year, the seasons of the planet, and the seasons of our mind; surely we can easily recognize the winter of our mind, the despair rocking us to sleep and holding us to our beds. Or like Spring, who so tries, so fresh and true of purpose, to reawaken our mind from the howling reentrants of sadness; an opening of our leaves. I find myself, as I’m sure many others do, finding a complete and justifiable parallel between the ebb and flow of the natural, and the ebb and flow of human emotion.
Like the pain of overexposure to a certain frame of mind, perhaps being characterized by a lightness and clarity that blasts away the senses, Day is the sunburn from being out too long. It is the glare in the camera lens; it is the monotony of being.
How sweet it is, after such a swelter of activity, to become enveloped in the folds of cool. This activity does the body a benefit indeed, yet the benefit of mental shade is not to be overlooked; as the body may be overworked and fatigued, so may the mind. As the day winds down and things begin to sublime, so must the mind have a similar period of Night. When one lays the body down to rest, reminisce; allow your mind to follow suit. Be obliged to let the winds and tides turn over the pinions in your brain, let the internal time slow down and reverse, but be wary not, for thine genius will remain when the Day cometh to awake.
On The Transition from Day to Night, Night to Day
Why must we differentiate between the seasons of the year, the seasons of the planet, and the seasons of our mind; surely we can easily recognize the winter of our mind, the despair rocking us to sleep and holding us to our beds. Or like Spring, who so tries, so fresh and true of purpose, to reawaken our mind from the howling reentrants of sadness; an opening of our leaves. I find myself, as I’m sure many others do, finding a complete and justifiable parallel between the ebb and flow of the natural, and the ebb and flow of human emotion.
Like the pain of overexposure to a certain frame of mind, perhaps being characterized by a lightness and clarity that blasts away the senses, Day is the sunburn from being out too long. It is the glare in the camera lens; it is the monotony of being.
How sweet it is, after such a swelter of activity, to become enveloped in the folds of cool. This activity does the body a benefit indeed, yet the benefit of mental shade is not to be overlooked; as the body may be overworked and fatigued, so may the mind. As the day winds down and things begin to sublime, so must the mind have a similar period of Night. When one lays the body down to rest, reminisce; allow your mind to follow suit. Be obliged to let the winds and tides turn over the pinions in your brain, let the internal time slow down and reverse, but be wary not, for thine genius will remain when the Day cometh to awake.