Musings on November 2, 2006

A rainy day knocking the leaves yet remaining on the trees. A precursor to full winter. Winter too has its own aesthetic beauty.

On a day such as this, cloudy and dark, I am able to smile, because there is always a promise of sorts in nature for things to come. All of life is this way. My existence appears, even in bright summer, to be dark, and yet I live so fully in each and every moment that it is an adventure. I am content without being complacent or accepting. Things change daily, and I have the wide eyed curiosity of a young boy who sees things for the first time.

I never want to lose this quality nor ever become jaded, even when forces are afoot to intentionally inflict such a disease. This prison is full of men beaten and broken; ravaged by that disease. Surrendered to the denigrators that sucked out any happy thoughts or precious memories. They caught the disease because it was the easy way out. They opened their arms in a pathetic gesture of welcome.

How can any man spend so much time with himself after relinquishing his free will? I hear the unspoken word of compromise and it sounds like cooperation, or even worse, collaberation. With a thousand faults, I am happy to be me and not one of them: automatons, slaves to prison labor, scabs upon the knee of humanity, wastrels, broken units, empty men.

Joe Labriola