My heart falters, loses its memento, its constant,
What causes it?
the natural entropy of things
sedentary nature clashes with the turbulent mind.
The inability to answer,
being unknowing frightens me.
I want to be omniscient, all-knowing, perfectly versed and practiced in all areas.
But we never become the full actors of our resplendent and mighty dreams, even method acting has its limits. (be cautious of melding immiscible reality and fantasy together, like oil and water, they seek to deviate from homogeneity for their truths and untruths are asymeterical; they are simply inverse functions of each other.)
The best imitators of ambition satisfy themselves with a close second-best;
even they don’t know that they have deceived themselves for they now live and breathe deception. Unknowing starry-eyes cloak their judgement with gilded wool, peering selectively.