Imagine if these words mean everything. Would you approach this activity differently? Would you expect more from it? Fine, poet, let's say it is: These words mean the world. These words mean the world. These words mean the world. No one is watching you. No one is judging you. (What will you do?) What will you write about? About the sadness in your heart about woman, about music? (No, that's redundant). No time for poetry except for what is. Keep trekking forth except this time more wisely, and humbler, capture their feelings and don't miss, wiser, I have a question. Why am I doing this? Because you have what it takes, and when you write, you seize a moment, a feeling. What you do is discover evidence for our living, you discover evidence of human happiness, and suffering, smiles, the wind, friends, mothers, food cooked by someone who loves you, oceans, coming and going, coming and going and never returning, harps, hearts, dogs, mice, cats and even lions, gazelles and apes, flying objects, turtles, dying people ... evidence materializes everyday, but only some people captures them and almost everyone enjoys them. Board a boat. It's time to move on, away from why you write and closer to writing.

My pen is a razor. I use it to slice the night sky, and the second before appears before me, and I think this is swell, so I slice again the night sky. Another second prior appears, and I do it again because it feels great. And I use both hands, slicing away at the night sky and time unfolds before my eyes and I watch myself living backwards, and as I slice the night sky rapidly and watch myself as I live my life backwards, I realize I make no mistakes (there is wisdom behind my deeds) and also as I cut through the night sky like fabrics, time becomes thinner and the sun behind it begins to leak out. The fabric comes to an end and it is all light. I cannot see because it is too bright. And because I cannot see, I cannot locate my body. I cannot find my body, but I know I am here because I am aware of my thoughts. I am here. What am I if I can't see myself? (I have nothing to tell me that I am still who I was). But my thoughts are intact thought I cannot see them. I feel my actions and repeating the actions will get me to where I need to get (and I do not know just where that is).

Not knowing where you're going does not mean you're blind. You are here. Whether or not you can see today because of the light or whether or not you cannot locate your body, your thoughts are certainly intact. They are indivisable, unable to break.

You drape a new fabric over the light. You drape another fabric over the light. You keep doing this, moving faster and faster. The bright light becomes dimmer. Now you can see your body again. Your hands, arms, chest, feet, leg — you feel your face — you are assured of your own presence. You are satisfied at this moment. You begin to walk forth, with no place in mind, but certainly there is a destination and it is your habits — those patterns that you pursue. You have covered your thoughts for comfort — for what you know, and you stride forth in a leisurely gait. You are walking forward, but you are moving backwards — you are moving away from your thoughts until one day you've moved to far and you declare that there never was such a thing, such a concept as the "sun," as the "light." Your thoughts are nicely bundled up inside the fabric. And like that, the sun dies, and your thoughts are made inaudible, and in no time, you too will follow.

Notes from As a Man Thinketh by James Allen

"A man's weakness and strength and impurity, are his own, and not another man's; they are brought about by himself, and not by another; and they can only be altered by himself, never by another. His condition is also his own, and not another man's. His suffering and his happiness are evolved from within. As he thinks, so he is; as he continues to think, so he remains."

"Man is made or unmade by himself. In the armory of thought he forges the weapons which will destroy him. He also creates the tools with which he will build for himself heavenly mansions of joy and strength and peace. Between these two extremes are all the grades of character, and man in their maker and their master."

"Dream lofty dreams, and as you dream, so shall you become. Your Vision is the promise of what you shall one day be; your Ideal is the prophecy of what you shall at last unveil."

"The greatest achievement was at first and for a time a dream. The oak sleeps in the acorn; the bird waits in the egg; and in the highest vision of the soul a waking angel stirs. Dreams are the seedlings of realities."

"Keep your hand firmly upon the helm of thought. In the bark of your soul reclines the commanding Master; He does but sleep: wake Him. Self-control is strength; Right Thought is mastery; Calmness is power. Say unto your heart, 'Peace, be still!'"

"Having conceived of his purpose, a man should mentally mark out a straight pathway to its achievement, looking neither to the right nor the left. Doubts and fears should be rigorously excluded; they are disintegrating elements, which break up the straight line of effort, rendering it crooked, ineffectual, useless. Thoughts of doubt and fear never accomplished anything, and never can. They always lead to failure. Purpose, energy, power to do, and all strong thoughts cease when doubt and fear creep in."

"The will to do springs from the knowledge that we can do. Doubt and fear are great enemies of knowledge, and he who encourages them, who does not slay them, thwarts himself at every step."

"He who has conquered doubt and fear has conquered failure. His every thought is allied with power, and all difficulties are bravely met and wisely overcome. His purposes are seasonably planted, and they bloom and bring forth fruit, which does not fall prematurely to the ground."

"Thought allied fearlessly to purpose becomes creative force: he who knows this is ready to become something higher and stronger than a mere bundle of wavering thoughts and fluctuating sensations; he who does this has become the conscious and intelligent wielder of his mental powers."

"The strong, calm man is always loved and revered..It does not matter whether it rains or shines, or what changes come to those possessing these blessings, for they are always sweet, serene, and calm. That exquisite poise of character, which we call serenity is the last lesson of culture, the fruitage of the soul."