Transition

Orchestral music soothing the day, and dreams of distance flicker on the equator of decision, when the smile of summer has lent itself to autumn, and within all of the midst, stands the real, defying definition and conclusion, and the distance casts shadows on the soul, and the heart is wild, as only the heart can be, and the separation of the warm air and the cool air, breathing within the same as one, and the present feeling of it being too soon for memory engages the spirit and the spirit urges present action, and action turns to ask itself if it is going in the right direction, and it seeks the earth and the sun and the moon for its answers, and there is slowness, and there is speed, not always a matter of choice, and then there is the quiet dictator, the mysterious quiet dictator, before thinking mind relays his thoughts to the self, and the question arises once again: 'am I really a person?' And how much am I the marionette, of a bigger player, so who is this marionettist, and what is his purpose and where does he come from, and why does he hide in the spiritual shadows of humanity, and then another day begins, just like the last one, only to be faced with another tomorrow, and faces change and voices change, but they look and feel the same and utter the same things in our narrowness, in our being captive dreamers unable to reach for the answers always, and knowing nothing.