The most powerful thing in the world is indeed love, nothing has ever made better or caused more grief than love. All things can be justified in love, and yet through its pale blanket, nothing is seen at all. Truth can be turned to lies and lies to truth, the ugly made beautiful for the blind to see. Yet, all is lost until we love. But what do we gain? Love, this inescapable force that surrounds and permeates our very being, what is it? Is it a product of our desire to mold the world around us so that we appear more than we really are?

I am in one of those moods today. Where everything seems surreal. Like I am an observer who is there in the middle of the action; but not really a part of it.

I feel like writing, stories, filled with hope and dreams and glimpses of worlds never before seen. Then the mood passes and I feel that door to the world I have seen, slowly close and seal itself, never to be opened again. Filling me with unknown longing and wonder. It’s weird.

All this because a good friend sought my counsel recently for an advice that I am only too aware he values little. As I write this, I have strong reason to believe that he is in a state of mourning. Mourning his own death from the joy and happiness of life that he knows not how to cherish. It is said in ancient journals and books of scribes much better than I, that the brave dies only once, but a coward dies many deaths.

Is it that worse to see one's dreams dashed against the cold stone reef of reality or to never have dreamt at all? You may be a wretched soul, bruised with adversity, but you do not own pain. Pain, the right to which only belongs to the man who strives valiantly and spends himself in a worthy cause; and when he fails, he fails while daring greatly.

Any idiot can feel pain. The trick is not how much pain you suffer – but how much joy you feel. Life is so full of excuses to feel pain, excuses not to live, excuses, excuses, EXCUSES! Just because Jack fell down and broke his crown and Jill did not come tumbling after, there’s simply no reason good enough for Humpty Dumpty to sit on the wall just waiting for that great fall. Alas, I now know too well that to argue with a person who has renounced the use of reason is like administering medicine to the dead.

When I am all alone I feel as though I am mere inches from some great truth that I am supposed to find and understand, but can never reach. As though the path I am following is of my own making and yet, not at all, at the same time. I wish I knew what to do. Sometimes, when I am walking outside I will simply stare at the world around me. It is funny how we can live our whole life without ever really living. I sometimes wonder if we are truly meant to be something in this world. I always seem to look at things so much differently than everyone else. I smile when others are silent, I laugh when no one is around...I am different.

The human mind is indeed the most amazing and powerful of computers. Transient and temporary though it is, it is very powerful. The most unnerving of questions that this computer can pose is "why?" Why do we do what we do? So full of questions. Will anything but our own advancement come of it? Still more questions. We go from one mundane task to another yet never really accomplish anything of importance. I do realize that importance is merely a matter of perspective. Yes, indeed the human mind is a powerful computer, but to what ends? “To what ends?” I asked. Still more questions. Greater gifts have never been given than those conceived in the mind, nor greater crimes. Slowly, we bob, just barely above the surface, adrift in a fathomless sea of doubt and self-pity. Awash in our own ignorance, we choose not to see the truth and to learn from what has happened, instead we lower our eyes and blunder through life committing the same mistakes our father's and their father's fathers and the fathers before them might have made. Will it never end? Will we never understand? Still more questions.

Love, an ethereal thing that is as beautiful as a shimmering rainbow reflected in the awed eyes of a child, as cruel as the cold bite of steel in flesh. Must we always pass through trial and tribulation before we experience it, must there always be a moment of truth before it surrounds us? Still more questions. Slowly I drag myself back to the surface. Pulling the threads of reality back around my heart, building once more the walls that will forever make me different. That set me apart. But is it truly so bad to be different, I think to myself as I become more of myself and at the same time less than I was. For in its own way isn't everything different? I allow my facade to crack into a quirky grin...will these questions never end? I ask myself once again...Still more questions.