http://slow.writerscafe.org/siddhartha288 The original writings of author siddhartha288 en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776215966 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 Too late, too late. Too late to give a damn. Too late to pay attention to all of the magnificent things that surround you. Forever is the ticket. Time is the enemy. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/siddhartha288/1004565/ This is that and that was this. Making sure it all came from bliss. But is it not possible to accurately predict the epoch of mankind? http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/siddhartha288/1004563/ On the brink of madness. I examine my life and its follies. When I view the sky I want to soar high; higher than any human being has ever tried. Life. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/siddhartha288/1004560/ We dieEverydayWithEvery stepWithEvery breathWe mutateOurMoleculesWe areNeverThe sameConstructionWe wereYesterdayWe dieTodayAnd tomorrowAndBorrowInfinity   http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/siddhartha288/1002319/ Monet’s visionsWere akinTo my ownForgivenessThenDa Vinci’s GhostTried to makeThe most of a bad situationSoPerhaps it isMeantTo beOr notWho knowsWhenThe curtainWill fallWho knows whatVisions await? .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/siddhartha288/1002316/ Revolving aroundWhateverRevolvesAround sympathyPatienceIs onlyA virtueWhen it is ableToFlourishUnderHarshUnderCircumstancesHarshReality is a crockA crockThat cannot revolveWhateverYour beliefsLet’s revolve arou.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/siddhartha288/1002313/ Emma was a brave girl. She liked to run. She liked to jump. She liked to dodge vehicles and people. Sometimes the people dodged her. Sometimes the vehicles dodged her; sometimes they didn't. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/siddhartha288/1001033/ I let too many great loves slip through my fingers. Who knew it would all add up to this? Certainly not I. Well, I know now but now it is much too late for me to even hope to reconcile any residual fe http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/siddhartha288/1001012/ An interaction between two impressionable people. One is an artist and the other is still looking for something to grasp. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/siddhartha288/1001004/ I am no longer familiar with myself. Well… not as familiar as one would like to be with one’s self. But then again what exactly is this thing called the “self”? To be fair no one really knows. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/siddhartha288/1000993/ You cannot fashion the world without first cracking a few eggs, skulls, bones and limits. I've pondered this plenty. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/siddhartha288/1000666/ Did you see?Did you hear?today we are allMillionaires!Did you see?Do you believe?Your color hasreturned to yourCheeksCan you smell?Can you taste?Every significantflavor now availablefor All of us mediocreCitizensTake a step forward!Make those politiciansApologize.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/siddhartha288/1000662/ Why do I write? Why do any of us write? http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/siddhartha288/1000660/