Sometimes
I feel that Life is a gift that I don't deserve.
While there is abundant beauty and infinite wonder,
there is so much pain, suffering and despair.
While I wish the pain would subside,
I know such a desire is fruitless
as existence requires suffering, or it at least certainly seems that way.
Every action and non-action propagate ripples which may never calm.
Life is a paradox:
Why? Why not? How? How could it not?
Illusory, yet real. Constant, yet with cessation.
Joy, pain, excitement, dread, disappointment, elation, fear, birth, death, now, never
So much that seems wrong to one person
all done just because our circumstance binds us
to things we'd rather do without.
So frightening is the notion of death, yet so painful is the concept of life.
Sometimes death seems more comfortable and desirable than life.
Lost in thought, found in confusion;
I think my life would be a gift better utilized by someone else.
I feel like a failure. A plague. A source of disdain and pain. Confusion.
Mostly to myself, but I've seen the effects of it on others, as well.
Sometimes I hate life too much to live
but some flame yet burns within me
demanding that I feed it oxygen and inspiration
that causes me to yearn for yet another breath.
Besides, what if I were to die tomorrow?
I might as well live now, today,
while I still have the chance.
This probably sounds worse than it is.
It is only an expression of a transient and powerful feeling I'm sure we all get from time to time.
An old piece of mine from last summer. Revisited.