The American Dream is not a destination.
It is a competitive process by which
we stick the noses of our neighbors
in our their own fucking shit.
I hear again the sound
of the sea
the water touching my toes
I feel once more
that carry me while I am shouting
the same words-
no matter what...
I love you forever!
We dance again
to the music of the rain
and play like children
like what we had been seeing
in our dreams before
I am yours
you are mine
We are destined to be one
Attention pivoted on the farthest
Blurry are the things at hand
The horizon seems reachable
Near ones distances themselves further
Clarion call from beyond the realm
Here, the soul is writhing in anonymity
A void, that threatens to engulf the known
Uncertainties of the realization is real
Heart is anchored here with situation
Yet, the world beckons this soul
The traveler yearns to break loose
The farthest seems logical and reachable
Distance will be traversed through unrevealed
Journey holds key to reach the destination
Started walking along the path
Where life was leading me
Towards a destination chosen
Not chosen by me
But was willingly following
To a predefined destination
Then I came along a bench
Weary I was travelling
The bench gave me respite
From the grueling march
I inspected the torn soles
As the pebbles were hurting my feet
I thanked the bench
Where I could now rest for the night
Lying on my back
I connected the dots on the night canopy
Slumber took over
Dreams of a new road, I could see
Sleeping off the weariness
I woke up to a new day
The bench which taught me to wait
Another destination chosen by me
Clouds have cleared away
I knew the path to walk along
I was a traveler with purpose
My destination, waiting for me
Path less traveled, Path unknown.
Mountains, Sand, rocks and stone.
No water, vegetation so scarce.
Sun at its ugliest, sun so fierce.
In this wilderness I fear I'll get lost.
I dread I'll be ruined, I will exhaust.
Some say this road will never end;
More I travel, more it will extend.
Soothing sound tells me to continue;
Sun is yet to set, travel miles few.
The heat forces me into a slump.
Solacing sound gives goosebump.
Very soon the blazing sun will fade.
I search tree with hundred years of shade.
They say to give up in this dusty heat.
I seek Gardens with rivers underneath.
So much words I want to say
Emotions build every day
For true love I did pray
Now I've found it I'm blown away
Battled for you throughout time
Won every fight to make you mine
In the world of you and I
We hold each other until we die
For you I do..I do not try
You are the answer to question why
With you there is no one else
Inside you I lose myself
When I look upon your soul
Fills me like an empty hole
Inside you I want to grow
Every day I'll let you know
Touch me feel our destiny
Kiss me taste eternity
In your eyes live inspiration
Soothes our souls of devastation
Words hit deep feel penetration
In each other our Destination..
"Without a destination, we can only wonder."
Like Erikson repeated during his stages, life takes many turns and we are thrown many obstacles. We want things, yearn for things; but these things become blurry through childhood and adolescents as we are caught within confusion and mistrust of those we looked up too.
My destination is something I have traveled many a roads to find. But I did not have an end goal, my end goal was one of immaturity and angst; I wanted to be happy. But what is happiness? Or what is happiness for me?
My happiness is now defined by what my future me looks like. I work hard everyday to become something greater; to make all see I am the best I can be. This gets hard and sometimes tiring. I feel like I am back and stuck in the stage of adolescents "identity vs confusion." I'll take a step back and realizes I am a lost girl; but am I truly lost?
Earth, our classroom, the world our teachers. I realize to take a seat and listen carefully at what the wind is whispering and what the flower buds growth interprets into. There is so much to learn. So much room to grow. Go on a journey but have a destination and when you finally reach it look back and applaud yourself because most people stay stuck on a journey and never end at a destination.
Death is not a destination.
Death is encompassing.
I smell it when I breath in the rusty stench of blood on my fingers.
I feel it in the pain that reverberates with each step
as if I had driven a nail into the bottom of my boot and I felt it every time it hit the floor.
Death is not a destination.
It's woven into the fabric of my skin,
using a thread so thin
it echoes the line between what makes me a bad person and a good person who does bad things.
It echoes the line between life and death but in a different way to the finishing line of a race because
death is not a destination.
It's the ball of rage that is fired up within me
at the slightest of things.
A reminder that I can't ever escape but can't quite tick off my list.
Death is not a destination but a feeling deep within me
and no matter how far I reach with my sharpened blade
I will never find.
Besides, I can no longer wish death upon the body I spent painful years learning to love,
the defenceless pulse nor my eager heart.
Death is not a destination,
but it is mine.
Whether it be warm or cold
it will welcome me.
I will be entering myself,
the most secret crevices that I found
the day the sadness took hold.
I will escape.
I will be free.