Destiny has arrived,
My time has come.

Despite there being,
much more to be done.

Ideas such as this,
come and go as they please.
Just as this life,
prepares itself to cease.

It came all too fast,
there was no time to prepare.
Swept off my feet as the very winds declare

"You who have lived,
a life short as can be,
Now it is time,
to decide who you want to be.
For good or for ill,
for the better or worst.
What you do is in your hands,
whereas your life shall disperse."

Remembered for what,
having done what, for whom.
What is it I feel,
am I willing to ****?

My very own life,
precious as can be,
for this sole reason,
what will I die for with glee?

The answer is simple,
How could I forget?
To pass on my seeds,
to whomever shall have them.

Giving the world my most heartfelt contribution,
sharing with the world, a most wonderful creation.
The most subtle, archaic, truth lying within,
in these dying words, may all truly live.
The wish that I have, unfulfilled,
may all work towards, a future completely fulfilled.

I watch the vast expanse of space beneath me,
the beautiful earth, covered in green.

I stare upon the very skies,
filled with stars farther than what the eyes can define.

Secrets hidden,
truths amidst,
the vast forest,
apparent like mist.

I stare upon the endless ocean,
vaster than even the eyes can glimpse.
I stare upon the beauties of nature,
filled with creatures both young and free.

Yet all these things are but what I can see,
a fraction of nature's divine great beauty.
Beyond all words, and what I can think,
to describe its unmatched grandiosity.

Still, I try, even when I fail,
because nature is, something I behold,
to be powerful and free, beyond compare.
It makes me see how tiny I am.

A bare speck, or a semblance of dust,
completing thousands of minor tasks.
To keep myself going, as all creatures do,
in the vast history of what's about to ensue.

Nature's beauty, lying in thus,
is just like its cruelty, apparent in us.
Blending and molding, all actions in one,
into a future which all will become.

Corpses of maggots, dead bodies amidst,
a vast mountain of others, a skeletal heap.
All paving the path into the future of Earth,
who knows what Nature is about to unearth?

Beautiful and sad,
Cruel and kind.
What comes to be must eventually unwind.

Thus Nature stays true,
to its essenceless truth.
That all it is, is a perpetuating loop.

The world breaks down,
into a cacophony of voices.

A symphony of strength,
a melody of choices.

The sum of our decisions and thoughts within,
give rise to a personality and character wherein:
Choices are made, and the path is sealed,
leaving no room except for one to yield.

To one's past decisions,
the actions which have wrought.
A series of consequences,
and what of it, a thought.

Of a better result than what has been seen,
Of a whole slew of decisions, however bad it may seem.
What we once chose,
become shackles that bind,
our very future,
into a dime.

We chase after shadows, figments of truth,
Of happiness and fulfilment, for good or for ill.
We choose a path, based on choices which shape,
whatever we become, for our happiness' sake.

Yet the pursuit of wealth, of money or success,
defined by others, and not by one's zest.
Will only lead to failure, a complete mess.

Of one's very own mind,
a confused wreck.
Not knowing the difference between what's good or bad.
The unending pursuit of one's own dream,
leads to an ending, that few have rarely seen.

For most seek power, and others seek wealth,
Few seek happiness, above all else.
The result of all these, what very few can see,
is the transformation of mind, from pure to unclean.

What is happiness, in truth,
but chemicals and flukes?
Based on this, people chase what's abstruse.

To succeed in society where happiness exists,
only at the top, while the rest subsist.
On scraps and inklings of what they deem to be,
a happiness that is perfect, worry-free and complete.

Thus they are trapped,
they don't begin to see,
the trappings of society,
so thorough and complete.

They don't see the happiness that lies in relief,
Or the pointlessness of striving toward what has yet to be.

Yet this very cessation,
of striving towards things,
is the very happiness that all wish to see.
Absolute freedom, an endless expanse.
Available right here, where we may truly rest.

Shaped by society to be narrow-minded and cold,
Let us break free, to be joyous and bold.
To enjoy the ecstasy that does not depend,
on cause and condition, or any expense.
Let us strive forth, to cease all attempts,
at seeking a happiness that requires us to attend.

May all of us enjoy, an eternity of rest.

The stilling of the mind,
so temporary and fine.

Grinding and breaking,
grounding and filling.
All things are turning,
and in for the making.

With contact, conception.
From perception, creation.
All ideas we have,
arise from destruction.

The bits and pieces of things once born,
the emptiness left when what's complete is gone.

Creation, Destruction,
Conception, Termination.
The cycle of things continue in procession.

For what's destroyed has pieces,
once put together,
containing within it a perfection beyond measure.

Thus things are recycled. ideas broken to create,
new things put together, what was once mashed by fate.

Piece by piece,
and part by part,
whats broken is complete,
like all things at the start.

So what does it matter,
when things fall apart?
We rebuild the beginning,
Right from the start.

To create a new future,
a story that is bright.
A series of advancements,
we all know is right.

Though we know we all die,
that things don't last forever.
Yet we do so happily,
knowing it will only get better.

The spreading of wings,
to cover the night of day.

The overbearing clouds,
keeping the sunrise at bay.

All things great, and all things good,
are things by all means, probably should.
Lead to happiness, prosperity, and joy within me,
or a simple contentment, a peace that will be.

Yet no matter what strives,
no matter what comes to be.
The characteristic of things,
is that they all cease to be.

Happiness. Sadness.
All good and bad.
Like the time of midnight,
vanishing in seconds.

Burning the fuels, and pushing the lies,
we strive ceaselessly, towards countless lies.
Of messages of a future we think we understand,
A glimmer of hope which we barely comprehend.

Needlessly striving, continually pursuing,
we arrive at the destination,
burning, smoldering.
Our wayward soul,
all the burns that follow,
and we look upon, to truly behold.

What we see are the joys,
temporary pleasantries,
a series of countless,
wastes and toiletries.

When we realize the path that we sowed has been done,
and all that we wish for, coming undone.
We begin to regret,
not knowing back then,
that a path which burns,
will lead to ashes in the end.

Yet it is not too late,
for there's always a chance,
that the truth will shine,
bright as the sun.

It is the moonlit night,
the salient breeze.
Which cools our hearts,
and soothes the feels.

When we release the burdens which have cindered us for so long,
what is left, is to go where we belong.

Peaceful and free, cool and placid,
it is then we can say, "Cooling down is worth it."

The empty expanse,
now clear before me.

A vast landscape,
A wide variety.

Thousands of things,
which act without royalty.

All beings act thus,
out of free will,
making many choices, for good or for ill.
They take many actions,
depending on their mood or the weather.
Choosing casually thus,
they affect the latter.

For one's life is not a void,
decisions are not empty.
One man's choice,
will affect all of the laity.

Interconnectedness to all that will be,
decisions will reach far, like a king's decree.
Knowing thus, and seeing thee,
one begins to act with certainty.

Being grounded in knowledge,
Clear seeing of truth.
The awareness and wisdom,
that's not simply, aloof.

One begins to act,
with pure joy and tact,
in accordance to all that is good and fact.

These men are praised,
as men of value.
As people who act,
with poise and valour.

They will be remembered,
as men of their day.
When all they did,
was simply obey.

Nature's laws and creatures,
the meaninglessness of critters,
coming together,
to form a system of leeches.

Knowing thus and yet going beyond.
These men who obey,
are not simply pawns.

They transcend into legend,
stories told of their fame,
yet all they did,
was to be grounded in their name.

The breaking of things,
disappearing meanings,
for growth, and progress,
we strive nonetheless.

What was once old,
remade to the new.
What was once treasured,
now merely a tool.

A hintings of a time that once came to be,
A sign of a future that was once yet to be.

Time passes fast.
Things are not the same.

What was state of the art,
now merely maintained.

All things are like this,
thought to give us amidst,
a splattering of pain,
a dash of suffering,
a combination of stress and disharmony.

A certain happiness,
a joy that won't be missed.
A goal that is worthy,
of all the pains that we once dissed.

We slowly grow,
chasing after things.
Yet then we realize,
said things are now slow.

Everything that's made, will be like so.
Nothing is free, nor can be maintained when old,
for our happiness and joy, that which we sow.

All things break down, even I myself too.
What was once good, may become taboo.

To maintain we strive. to be happy we work.
Not knowing when this will be our last word.
Where we see that all things that have come to be,
just like our happiness, will cease to be.

So abandon this maintenance,
of this facade and countenance,
and live a life of honesty,
of complete abundance.