Friday, September 12, 2003


This is the summer of my discontent no surprise I could see it coming. The pursuit of power was my dream but now I know that fame is not synonymous with success. work no longer is a challenge lost its thrill and cutting edge more money doesn't fulfill my needs it only serves to feed my greed. my soul wants to move on and my spirit longs to soar high above to the next level. Grown weary of the thriving metropolis the peaking decibels of noise, the harried frenetic pace of life, the inescapable stench of pollution, the deceived, enslaved people all working on their image control while the lusty lure of temptation and the cloak of paranoia abound. Longing for the earthy aroma of rich farm land, the taste of cool, fresh spring water on my parched lips, the golden rays to tan my wanting face the feel of soft green grass, the potpourri of wildflower perfume, ancient trees, majestic mountains crouching below billowy skies the cries of wildlife and the inescapable light of the yellow moon. Wage war against the spirit of discontent return to that place of solitude and safety breathe the cool, crisp morning air of freedom bask in the baking warmth of summer southern sunshine bathe in cleansing cold pelting drops of a drenching downpour become one with nature again, and again be accepted for the content of your character rather than the color of your skin and measure wisdom by the number of years rather than by titles or degrees. © Lunarmax 2001 All Rights Reserved

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