"Would the Wright brothers have succeeded if they obsessed over wealth instead of how to produce the first plane?

Desires have become a disease, content is being shared by those not obsessed with the domain.

Societal driven reaches for recognition, money, or status; these are all productivity flaws.

History is littered with the truly passionate, those obsessed with their domain and it's laws.

You hear the difference immediately between an artist who loves to sing and someone who had to make a song.

Ironically, all the things people chase in life are natural symptoms of obsessing in a place where we belong.

Einstein dreamt the theory of relativity, Tate McRae & Ryan Tedder wrote, produced, and laid hit song "Exes" in a mere 30 minutes.

True obsession can not be faked and it's all that can sustain you once you're in it.

Those who do not love the domain, may get the rewards. Novelty will then wear off and they'll begin to search for something else.

Psychologically, to be miserable is the same neurologically as thinking about yourself.

In ancient civilizations such as the Indus valley or Mesopotamia, Barter systems reigned supreme.

One of the main challenges were double coincidence of wants, but what happens when one trades all his wants for a need?

Hence, wealth disparities begun to balloon, intermediary traders began to exploit their positions.

Through the ages socialist economists have warned of the effects of these gentlemen, no one listened.

They'd often point to the example of King Croesus of Lydia who amassed great fortune through exchanges and conquests he made.

Yet, in a kingdom renowned for it's prosperity, the only rich citizens of Lydia were those involved in trade.

Fast forward to 1776, and Adam smith ironically became the invisible hand of a prophecy.

One that foretold the return of the winner take all trader wasn't only possible, but most probably.

The prophecy is not clear, we do not know how, when, or where.

But somewhere, a trader prepares, poised to resurrect a trading prowess unseen for thousands of years.

Good things, good people, are most appreciated when they’re leaving.

An easy Sunday morning isn’t noticed until Sunday evening.

It isn’t until landfall that the sailor notices the path was smooth.

For those who feel under revered this should be a thought that soothes.

It may rain today, It may shine today, but the flowers sprout as the time creeps through.

Slower is the preparation of herbal infused teas but such a sweet brew.




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Tap. Tap. Do you hear that sound? moisture of life divorcing from the clouds.

Thunder silences the soul, light flashes as the mind gets loud.

Isn’t It ironic we feel more alive the closer we are to the ground?

Can’t breathe in technology? Find a sea of words and drown.

The whole point of royalty is to be born with a crown.

To become professional at getting lost is to be profound.

The use of cubism by Picasso introduced multiple viewpoints to enhance grading.

Any enthralling image requires light and dark areas, this is my shading.

Covered by a sad song, we seep into a bleak place where we feel we belong.

Far I’ve come but my grandmothers are gone. I feel as if I took too long.

I’ve realized past partners are projections of myself in order to understand my mind.

Is this why x is behind double you and in front of why?

Life is vices behind, like workaholism, *******, and liquor.

Then the ego introduces goal posts as the next kicker.

Checks and balances, they never told us that once you master the game

You’re terrified. To fall short while capable means there’s no one to blame.

So, I write to take weight off my shoulders, to say to you that you mustn’t always be so strong.

In this short life, we all know there are days It can feel too long.

Cloaked beneath every great person are robust friendships, until you’re rich the world ignores you.

When you’re being suffocated by doubt’s grip, they restore you.

It’s as if they had a lifeboat off of the Titanic, forgot you on board, and came back.

To my best friends, here your roses come, Jack.

The ones who sat in horse and carriage deserve to fly next to thee.

The hard part is over now, and I owe the will to keep going to the best of me.  

So if not for you, for your friends, the ones who only ask for an inch when you have a mile.

Nobody deserves to share your dream with you more than someone who just wanted to see you smile.

I will drag my ink across the scroll, hoping to describe how I feel.

Proximity to a dream realized may be better than the day the dream is real.

We often feel more deeply in imagination, disengaging this sense for what we can grasp.

but which is better, stretched out anticipation of a comedy show or the actual laugh?

It could be my observation is incorrect, just my fear of waking up once the dream is over.

It has been a joy to ****** into the unknown, less so as the known moves closer.

The person who’s coming always seems more exuberant than the one who came.

Could It be the best scenario always exists in the brain?