Here I stand once again at the crossroads. The crossroads of indulgence and discipline. It seems our world is geared toward quick pleasure—fleeting, intoxicating, and, in contrast, eroding the temple we inhabit in this universe.
I feel the fire in my veins, urging me to experience, to taste, to feel—to chase the rush of indulgence. The thrill of devouring life with no hesitation. Because after all, we only live once.
But then there’s the voice. Not a whisper, not a murmur—no, it’s the steady hum of something ancient, something unshakable. The keeper of wisdom. The reminder that this body is not just flesh—it’s a force, a vessel, a testament to something greater. And that demands respect, care, reverence.
So here I stand. One foot in the fire, one hand on the altar. Do I throw myself into the feast of existence, unbridled and unapologetic? Or do I choose the discipline that doesn’t just sustain, but transforms?
Maybe the answer isn’t in choosing. Maybe the answer is in mastering both