“Hung over… those dazed eyes…, the black pall� that devoured the world’s life and made it end. A television that never turns off, a road that never ends, a conversation, a band playing a waltz, a will to live all lead up to a somber insignificant but overwhelming black nothing. Once we get what we want- once our desires are caught they never seem satisfying; we never get anywhere because of the desire to live. Mankind should be content with their goals and there achievements instead of feeling insignificant. Ending should not be described as sudden turn into silence- silence in which contains nothing at all- silence in which is needed as retreat. Life is not a retreat, which is known; but can the way we chose to live be our own sanctuary. This explorer of finding his or her own way of life is forced to be on watch for a “velvet peace� that doesn’t exist. Some try to find silence; however, we should just be on watch for our own comfort and security. Lets say, perhaps, that I find the meaning of life for myself, let’s even say that I choose to walk into my sanctuary; does time pass me by or do I only find the pace I am supposed to walk. Time only has meaning to those who keep it and to those who try to break it. It’s a casting shadow that follows you wherever you may go, in whatever direction you choose to take and whatever absence you think you can make for yourself. By looking for peace we find ourselves looking for an end. Time is a game that you can ensnare yourself into. You can become so preoccupied with it that in devours you and your own personal path. Its deathly timely path becomes a beginning and a tremendous erotic end. Why must some choose to be scared of beginnings and of ends? No one likes to start over or to start below someone else; but we can’t all be one top. We are all on different paths and different times, we can’t all do the same thing at once- we can’t all be on the same line of perspective; therefore, we can’t all conform to the same voice. Now that the beginning has been dreaded; we choose now to dread the present. Not learning from any experience and choosing not to interpret any meaning from the present only leads us into the black plague of time. Now we go even further; we choose to kill ourselves with vicious perception of timely traps and we hope and wish for end. Many don’t realize what end is…. End is an end, no more games no more color or light or dark or faces or refuge, we choose to penetrate ourselves in to silence- a forever silence. The black whole in which nothing can be found and nothing can be touched or grasped or seen. The corrupting nature of end means end of direction. Thus, why we should live and not think of the past or the present or the future; instead, we should find peace with ourselves and with our own eclectic preset. End seems to be told of as therapeutic. We don’t need to wait for it; you don’t want to wait for its devouring mentality. You can find therapy in life… if you choose to be courageous enough to unearth it.