The manifestation of the lot

My world - a tangible existence that evolves between wiping blinks. My body - forced to mediate between an ongoing external interaction and that which my mind cognitively interprets as its own. I feel the distance every time I embrace my senses and reach towards skewed perceptions. Only then do I encounter constant forces that push against every ounce of strength I'm entitled to. Consider this - in mid air we are motionless. Our flailing limbs guide us towards nothing more than a fit amongst the heavens. With the ground beneath our feet and a stone pressed cold against our fist - we exist.

My reality - glimpses of imagery prescribed to every thought and to every engagement. Worldly understandings escape me. As I stay stagnantly confined inside my tunneled visions, a refusal to guide mental apparitions acts in accordance with the progression of all personal knowledge obtained. My knowing - only the examined and the confronted can reside in storage. All other conceptualizations wait patiently in life's lobby and present themselves as needed.

The manifestation of the lot - every wasted second. My mental state is forced to coexist with a physical world. Doing becomes a personal accomplishment and minds are left backstage with the laborers. At one time in my life, the physical world took precedence. Lately, it seems the opposite - sitting patiently for no sensible communication. I'm hoping that the future brings humbled mediation.