Can holding a note replace holding a hand?

Can a record catch help the fisherman forget the mistakes he made on land?

Heart broken, we turn to our talents. Consumed with pain, It seems better to be self absorbed.

Have the achievements ever helped with forgetting the ones you adored?

Promotions justify neglect, an increase in earnings helps with overlooking that which you’re losing.

Celebrating the purchase of new house drowns out the fact you must keep moving.

There’s a new PR, you’ve made partner, the shot went in, the Mercedes surely does ride smooth.

Reality would be perfect if these things really did soothe.

Truth is though, you run there because this place, these things, make you feel like enough.

For a moment it feels like the talent, the success, replaced all the love.

Can intelligence be explained by physics? Can we point to an asymptotic build of elementary particles?

Could it be ideas do not have limits? The complexity from their composites cloaking the repetition in articles.

I guess what I am pondering is, can genius simply be an eternal dive into a domain?

To produce a thousand iterative answers while the question has simultaneously remained the same.

Does an obsession with musical notes teach one to notice rhythm in thunder?

Is it irrelevant to know and more productive to wonder?

Was the renaissance the use of numbers to write, colors to add, and an abundance of letters to spend?

It could be genius is simply the perfection of a lens, looking through said lens, and seeing the earth begin to bend.

Tai Lung's desires led him to a prison constructed by his own hand.

However, there is a deeper thought, are our desires original or the product of what our setting demands?

Biologically hardwired for approval, living is not as vital to our genes as feeling that someone cares.

In a world where excessive pride repulses, is our received vanity fair?

All that Tai Lung did, he did to make his father proud, to reach what he was told he should achieve.

The apple doesn't fall far from the tree but what of the leaves?

They submit to the wind, float far away, land, and crumble away.

Leading an adult man to feel like a toddler for that is that last time he stumbled this way.

The origin of a villain is a shackled mind, a mind that did not discover it's own desires.

Any organic organism that is force fed sparks will soon be a dragon to breathe fire.

Forced goals + Obedience  = entitlement you know?

& even in this I found beauty. Do you know how hard you have to work to believe success is something you're owed?

"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.