User:Kapitanniemand

Kapitan Niemand
Like an idea, he was born into this world, and lived in it like one. With time, he became conscious of his own existence, and looking upon himself came to love what he could feel, while still he would hate what he saw. Brought up on ideas, borrowed from those who fathered him, and mothered him. For himself, to remain sane in the face of humanity, he crafted from the woodworks of books and music, his own ideology. Like a pot on a potters&#8217; wheel, spinning unto itself, when the potter is absent for his cup of tea.

Today, the idea is twenty-three years old (he will always be, and I will perhaps tell you why) or at least that&#8217;s how old he feels. All that he knows now, all that he has learnt and grown to be can answer no call or query but the unrealised reality of existence &#8211; that no matter what, he must go on. It would take a lifetime, and perhaps more, to understand to what end, or for what purpose. In the hope of that realisation, he must go on. Life, like a road, lay before him, with little other to do than to follow it, on a path unto an unknown end, a journey within oneself.

Of the many questions that plagued the mind, each took credence in its own right. The whys, always in the plural, when the luxury of time allowed. When, when there was purpose, or lack thereof. How, the all-pervasive search, that seemed always to answer itself. Who and what were less exhausting, in that there were often simpler to ask, and consequently asked more often, with less pertinence...

Webpage: FoolOnAHill.com