To think of all those endless walls of doubt. You ask yourself what you dream of, and then if you’re willing to make it happen. If it leads you down a solitary road, will you be prepared to do what it takes to keep walking? Emerging from the shadows, the bright lights look so alluring; they shine and promise instant gratification, but that kind of life has to wait. Perseverance is the word that remains at the centre of your world. Amidst the flux of a raging universe, you’ve found your soul, and now you’ve got to live with it. Words chosen in a time of destruction; they got you out of a place where the air was so scarce you could hardly breathe. The words remained. They twisted and changed as the months rolled on, but their intent stayed. Others became your enemy. Your own reflection taunting when lethargy prevailed. But these are only temporary setbacks. If the mind is set on what it wants, then nothing can prevent such ambition from coming to fruition. Against the worst odds, if you mean it, and feel it, then nothing else matters. Such is a life that sadness and loss are an integral part of the journey. Vital ingredients necessary for revelation and truth. You need to hurt because to hurt makes you know what’s it like to be real. It separates you from the ones who never see what’s going on. Look around, and look closer. Speak the dirty truths. Deny the confines others try so hard to impose upon you. Just because they don’t have the belief, doesn’t mean you should stop. It doesn’t mean you can’t make it; it just means they won’t be around to see your triumphs. If others aren’t prepared to stand by your troubles, then they don’t deserve to taste your glory.
Self-portrait as Exit Man. The rain falls heavy, and inspiration is lacking. The air muggy, this aching body just doesn’t want to do a thing. It’s a wasted day, although somehow it’s not. It’s in the stillness when things come together. Away from the crowds, seeds of faith are planted unseen. The world might not see you now, but when those seeds come shooting into life, you’ll be eternally thankful for all those days of solitude. At one with yourself beneath the sun and moon, it’s you and you alone who can make this thing work. Do you have the guts to peek into the abyss and glimpse all that you’ve lost because of it? Do you have the stomach to watch as others achieve while you have nothing? Of course you do, because you can feel it in your bones. It’s in the blood that pumps through your sullen body. The streets offer no solace, only closed doors to existences you were never meant to be a part of. There are ghosts on every corner. Don’t run from them. Let them come close. Let them cut you, and see what comes out. Put it into words. Let it fuel the fires inside. Imagination is self-harm. The sting as it pierces your skin making you shiver as if kissed by a lover. Wrongs turns and heartbreak galore, the only thing you can do is to keep doing what you do best. If it makes you feel alive, then it’s all that matters. If you’ve found your voice, then keep singing. Across the wastelands, others will hear, and then they will come. They’ll be drawn to your music, and that’s the greatest gift of all.