When I become too old to think I’ll likely not retreat to drink, but to surmise a flattering lie and thereupon philosophize. I’ll make my self a noble throne where awareness or spirit blissfully roams. I’ll take my pleasure from concepts vain because I’ve lost the will to gain the Truth that’s found through the strife and strain of retreating from all “I” can claim.
Settling
Originally published: Nov 2004