Perhaps, a web

To be asking these questions all around the time and to be able to try to ask with a face that I would wake up to, without an escape, every passing of that time is a dare .A dare to look inside, not with a peek, not in a hood but with the light of all the worlds covering it, hovering to watch the play of deeds done past, deeds that would taunt and haunt the fickle lanes of memory and yet! AND yet would want a piece, a pound of the flesh for the deeds weren’t committed in the insides of the thought dungeons where the dark receives acquiescence for the space, no Sir; these were performed unto the tissues of flesh and blood and bones, scarring them for the times to come. I do sense a tinge of mockery towards the acts of pursuing the abstract for the markings were pretty materialistic by my earlier claim, perhaps one might forget that after all the flesh, blood and bones were merely the shield that withered from every marking made and finally left the lonesome warrior vulnerable, the final touch left an impression that would be beyond the Passage-and that Mark is what one would be left with, one would remember and one would define the rest of the course with! To hunt these back to the beginning is the Dare that began and would end at the final act of realizing the all the acts that lead to it, all the marks that I would ever incur and all those that I willingly or unconsciously brought to existence,all lead to this one moment where I can finally see who it was that made the very first ripple. If I can just ask the way to the very first defining act perhaps some sense would be established in this utter chaos, laying a final stamp on my role in the play I have been performing for so long; perhaps I a final vote would be cast to define my fate of the past and the future that has to arrive for sure and perhaps I finally, finally can have a closure to all the debate of playing both the sides of the light.