As the bells from the nearby temple ring through the barely arisen morning,
I find myself thinking of regrets.
Chances I didn't take with a recourse to practicality.
Chances I did take only to see them fall apart in front of unhelpful eyes.
Probably the only thing that is truly your own is this feeling.
The bells are rhythmic. I wonder if someone is ringing them with bare hands. Must have loads of practice. A lonely truck passes by now and then, only to become a privileged man's motley muse.
What is it about this morning that blinks so sleeplessly by?
Maybe I should not inflict this upon the world just to get by.
The bells have stopped ringing. Maybe they got tired. Maybe they didn't ring it as long as they were supposed to. I guess it's fine. No one is listening anyway. Except me. And you.
Birds are chirping now. I used the cliché so that you could relate. Can you?
There are points in life where the chain of reason breaks apart.
Life, you, give in to impulses you thought were meant for lesser minds.
You realise there is no lesser mind.
All of us are lesser than our minds.
Chains of reason. How ironic. Reason is supposed to free you.
Clasp it tight enough and you are chained again.
That's not why this is a terrible wound.
The reason it is one is because it does the same thing for you as it does for me.
And I regret it.