Front or Back, It Makes no Sense

Preconceived opinion. Not matter what side of a coin you look at you only see silver.  You always hurt the one you love - the one you love is always you. We are our own self interest. Behind the image of our minds that is revealed in our eyes is the reality of all we want to be. We go through our lives trying to hide what we really  fee, caring only about ourselves and all that we stand for; centre our interest on ever changing worldly objects knowing nothing is forever, except what we leave behind. We are biased towards ourselves, of things that are beautiful and never were, of things that are lovely and never happened and of things that are wonderful and never should be. Our need for self elevation causes us to find fault when there is none, accuse and misjudge. And reason no longer is the master of our days. Instead we rely on detriment towards us to govern our reactions. Equity plays no part in life, only in a sick sense of morals which we believe the possession of is a blessing. After all, we learn much, hear little and practice less.

And sometimes, in the context of things, we believe ourselves to be right, are unable to find ourselves blemished or marred by the crushing weight of life and the burden of a prejudiced conscience. But you can talk and still say nothing. For words are all we have in the tautological phases of our lives. And yet, beneath it all is the feeble structure of our mind, the only thing we care to preserve, the sole possession we wish to treasure. And what is our mind other than a representation of ourselves.

We are concerned with death, its existence and its meaning, when our attention should be turned to the elucidation of life itself. For death is nothing other than an existence lacking in life. And life is unfair in its dealings and treatment of people. We are unable to conceive the capricious friendships we develop, eyeing the affair with a view to bias. We cannot choose our family yet are not capable of selecting friends from the world's great ocean of children. The reason being simply that we are the most important person in our lives. We cannot be replaced, we cannot be forgotten. Some insignificant corner of the map may prosper from our existence, some churchyard become heavier with the weight of death.

And we pass away still caring for ourselves and all we own, handing it on through time and generation rather than letting nature take its natural course on what is stolen from time.

In life, in death, there seems no point, no destination. No pinnacle to aim for, no height to attain. And yet we cherish ourselves, sway rules when applied to us so that the wound is not so deep.

Self prejudice makes no sense. But in the end it isn't a matter of win or lose. It's not up to a single chance of make or break, but it's what you believe the reason to be, your own opinion regarding preconceived opinion.

So when you look beyond the colour of someone's eyes there's something to be seen there, something unwritten, something unspoken and that something there is all of you.