Stars now beneath our feet; we've known the terror and still not stopped...

The thoughts that are built like brick and mortar are the ones that never move.  They don't crumble or age; if they do, it's only to become more intense and ingrained.  As far removed as I am from that kind of life, from life itself, these structures always stand tall.  Most of the time, though, they are obscured and forgotten about.  But they're always there.

There is always the tendency to forget and move forward, to use the forward brain and not the linear one.  The brain that always thinks abstract about the future in a nebulous way.  It's easier to do that than to draw a line.  But from those thoughts come the comparison to the reality of life, and how inadequate it seems most of the time.  Life itself seems inadequate.

And at the same time, to say it's understated is itself an understatement.  Life is the nebula that embodies what is abstract, even if it doesn't show in the concrete dealings of society and the Great Interpersonality.  It feels like I'm trying to use more colors than my eye can perceive, or broadcasting at a frequency that I can't even hear.  But, nonetheless, I hear it.