They say, when you hear the sounds of devils, all else is quiet.
How do you know if what you were hearing is the work of such devious beings? I would venture to say that most devilish noises occur when large numbers of men decide to force the hand of mortality upon one another. And I'd say further, that on such occasions, there's not just one sound, but many. It is a quiet orchestra of death.
It is also possible that the man who wrote that saying might've just had some broke ears.
Sometimes when I wake up, I feel like I'm still sleeping. I feel like all the colors and shapes of the world have collided and all I could do sit there and watch. I think a person's heart has a way of turning off when it can't find reason. I guess that's why nature has always had an inspiring presence; everything follows a purpose. I guess we're missing something.
Why do we struggle to breathe a more righteous breath, when we all end up in the same place? I'd like to think that our history is worth remembering -- an imprint of careful design. Feel it in a heartfelt purpose and a sense of hope for something bigger than ourselves.
It is quite unsettling to face one's nerves so often. To accept death before each advance is frightening. Yet this is the only way to move forward. I can't explain all this -- what uncertainty does to a man's soul. But I do know it can drive the mind mad. The mind is like a closed grave. Some would say it's the grace of god that gives us the strength to bear the shaking timber and the falling earth. Most would agree that there was just nowhere else to go.
How can it be that eyes that have seen so much, be brought to life by a simple thing? It is as if we have some sort of predestined tempo of destruction. I have decided that I am not looking for one discovery. I am simply hoping that we have a history worth remembering.