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What on Earth am I doing?

"I have no spur to prick the sides of my intent, but only vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself, And falls on th'other"

 - Macbeth ,  Shakespeare    


Living. I think I am. Sometimes a lot. Sometimes a little. But I am not dead. Of that matter I am certain.
But most of the time I think I am wobbling.Yes that's what I am doing. Foundations rocked, Fears ruling night and day. Be proud  voila! The Wobble. Sometime the wobbles are wide, there is no way out, no help afforded and sometimes the wobbles are minute. An unseen oscillation with all of Planet Earth. A profound vibration when in time, motion and tune. The beautiful resonating moment. But either way good and bad, I wobble.

Yes that's what I am doing, wobbling. I know not for how long or when. It matters not, least to the makers of the wobble.

The unseen consequences of no one's Matter to care,  But protection of the mind sought in the controlled state, where injustice, perpetuated images  and false words fester.

"You have no idea, what it does" 

Blocked


"Wash your hands, put on your night gown.  Look not so pale - I tell you yet again, Banquo's buried. He cannot come out on's grave" 

 - Lady Macbeth, Shakespeare 
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