Not everything exists in this convergence of darkness and light, summer breeze and winter gust or like the Def Leppard lyric, where "love and hate collide." I love a good story; I long to be its protagonist. I love to be swept up into a story. There was once a time when it was the mindset I maintained, this great battle all around me. I loved the swelling of the orchestra, the pounding of the taiko drums, all and everything reaching to the final conflict, the chief end of existence...

...but I began to lose it and recognize that much of our lives is largely...laundry. To do lists and such.

And where I don't disagree with this and I'll use humor to deflect the deep ache, the longing to engage the Call to Adventure, I am recognizing that embracing the epic, that which makes us feel the most alive, is a...soul surge.

In the silent lucidity of solitude, my voice rings out across a chasm into the stratus cloud that creeps across the rim. Oh, Internet, how you gave rise to The Sound of Silence!

This leads us to a fundamental question posed by Queensryche:

Is there anybody listening?
Is there anyone who smiles without a mask?

My reply...

Shouts to the finite,
Whispers to the infinite,
All and in all
With not a laugh track,
But a child's chalk.