Wait for the fall, over the other side of time. Your life passing beneath you, as if its the world itself that moves beneath you while you just stand your ground, unable to move, stuck, a loop of a living, curling and whirl-winding, a storm wreaking havoc around you, with some instances where it passes over you, inside the inertia of the center, some kind of peace of mind can be found. As if that fall, coming your way over this span of time ahead of you must always come after a climb, after a struggle of immense proportions, with boredom, with sickness and crowds. Not all lands are created the same. Some are treacherous, riddled with pitfalls, deadly predators, evil intent and dumb luck.
Beware the false turn of events into something good. A stroke of luck will always leave you dumbfounded, blind to darkness. Don't forget total annihilation is but a careless step away, sometimes not even that, sometimes even inaction will cause destruction. Yet be content that violence waits at the end of every road. Existence is always torn from this world and it never leaves without clawing its will to the earth, to it's betrayer the flesh.
So why isn't it possible to live with the same intensity? Life is trivial, I guess. So much of it crawls around that as a species, that will to cling to life is gradually diminished. The animal dies and with it, the purity of life is lost. When that happens, death reigns. The species is cursed to produce and consume death, digging its own grave on the path to progress.
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