Mental Vomit

Everything matters and nothing matters. All simultaneously. There are moments of brilliance, and moments of realized regrettable idiocy. In an instance you are everything, and the next you are less than nothing, a spec of dust, nothingness floating through a sunray on a miniscule dot in the vastness of nowhere. We are so serious in our intentions, we forget about why we even care. Our imaginations are not something to regret, without imagination we would have nowhere to progress to. Inspiration is fleeting and fickle, If it dances upon your brow, grasp at it, fling it down, and press it into paper or string it up on a bow. We gain slowly through separation, and quickly through unification.