Clearing my throat in the standby mode getting ready to be the best that could ever exist until I get better than the best.

Standing on a floor made of paper through which I can only see the night when it faces the day.

I know that there are many things to overcome but in the weightless void of my mind there is a confidence and desire to overcome.

I am here. I am alive. I am mobile and stationary to that which surrounds my being.

I can see nothing but and endless space filled with much possibility.

There is much at which I need to grasp, yet I know not which to pick, for they all present equal chances.

Upon the floor I walk one step forward toward something with a great deal of certainty not usually found within my walking.

The ocean I am trying to envision is crying out for some sort of shape and image so it knows its formless boundaries.

The hair I hold is catching on thew winds as I try to press outward more than I ever have before, trying to escape and yet choosing to remain firmly rooted within my scalp.

I can only stop and stare as shapes come forward into some sort of cohesive reality that is not mine, for it is not what I think I see.

However, I continue forward into something I do not know and will never realise, for there is a side at the end that I must reach if I am to continue on toward something resembling something that I am a little more unfamiliar with.

The lands are convulsing and the vegetation is heaving.

Across the way is an entrance into that which I do not know and that which I wish to find out.

I keep on moving forward, attempting to get past the ocean that I am trying to form that is not mine whilst the shapes continue to put themselves in place as the land convulses and the vegetation heaves, yet I weigh myself down with my own sense of insecurity, refusing to cast away the weight that I am choosing to burden myself with.

Still I persist for the side is within view and despite my own choices there is still will to overcome all that which I use to pin myself down with.

The wind whips at my face and claws at the scene, threatening to carry it away with it along some sort of journey that only the wind knows.

I am convalescing within myself.

I am choosing to continue on because there is much to not be known.

I am searching for an other side.

I am trying and I will find a way.

I am as formless as the thoughts I am trying to hide away are existing.

I am as formless as I am within form.

I am crossing an ocean that I am trying to create.

I press inward and continue moving forward.

The time it took to write five-hundred words: 08:34:36

This kind of ended up as some form of poetry.

I think I was trying to be really visual.

Well, it’s more accurate to say that I realised I was being visual toward the middle and continued on.

Not that great a piece of writing but I do like the imagery that it provides.

Written at work.