The mind wonders...

A philosophical prose about the strange feeling of ambition I get right before I go to sleep. I wonder if others share this.

I lie at night and wonder the possibilties, what if?... what if?...

 

I find it strange in considering that the day having passed is less important than the month or the year. As if nothing worthwhile is attainable in just one day, yet magically, somehow, the collection of these apparent redundancies can be emcompassed into a final achievement, a final goal, a final conclusion.

 

Sadly, as each of these seemingly insignificant days roll past, ambling into history, limping into oblivion, the dreams and ambitions suddenly become more distant, more vague, more surreal and yet more desirable, more wanted and more lamentable.

 

To settle for mediocrity in this life must surely be a sin, if not to God, and not to yourself then surely to those around you. To leave no mark on this world, no posterity, if not a sin, must surely be classed as an abhorant waste of existance with your presence in this world having been no more than a corruption of the space you occupied.

 

So, as I close my eyes to sleep, I say my promise, my mantra which seems to dog me every night.

 

My empty prayer...

 

Tomorrow... Tomorrow...

Author's Note

Ignore grammar, I certainly did.