Been meaning to...

I've been meaning to write. I know. I know. But the days start so quick and become late visions of themselves almost as soon as the gun is fired. And most of the time, I just sit so still, in contemplation and confusion and perplexity, watching the smoke clear- and the days grow so late, before anyone even has the chance to inform me of this. Hello. Goodbye. Again? And again. Hello.

My absence, silence, distraction is not of ignorance or apathy. Quite the opposite. Everyday no matter how early I wake or late I may sleep, I do rise to hear the sound of every man, every jubilation, every bomb, bastard, terror and every charm, that which has come and that which is far gone, the fortunes gained and the virtue lost by hands very much the same as my own.

I may be quiet, but am far from out the game.