Words.

Little islands of meaning that float and twitter over the consciousness. That meander across the meadows of thought, begging for understanding. Little pockets of space-time seeking to encapsulate the intent, thought and conditions of the person who first thought them into life, and connected them together. Travelling across the flotsam of the white noise that we inhabit daily.

Love.

A word with some meaning. Weight. A purpose. An intent, and a hope that moves beyond things that we know, or care to know. I love, and I hope. And I look to the future, and there is brightness in the wings of rhymes and songs and thoughts that make me glad. And I also see the alternative - dark elements of silence, that blot out all the colour in the words that would otherwise inhabit that void. We choose.

Choice.

Another word with weight. Weight upon shoulders. Human responsibility. Shrugging, or carrying. Hoping, or living. Life is full of this weight. And we move along, in the wake of both our choices, and the ones we let others make for us.

Absorbed.

Is being selfish a simple matter of looking out from your own eyes, and not being able to conceive another's? Is it simply a matter of letting all else die but that which you seek the most? When does a legitimate protection of self turn into a situation which makes others wish they were dead for all the pain you are causing them on your account?

Where ends thy need, and where begins my hope? I have met many people in my life, and everyone has had an active part of them continuously working towards ensuring their own prosperity, hope and courage. 'tis but a shame that in their avid desire to save their own hides, they must lose out on so much that would seem great for their own selves.

A healthy amount of saving oneself effort and trouble is rational and expected, but a complete aversion to anything that might cause a mite of risk but lead to a plethora of gains is strange. A selfish person is very content with letting others stick their necks out, but shall protect his/herself at the cost of nearly everything else. That seems to be the rule with which they lead their lives.

Pity, that.