"
I'm am tired of people asking me to smooth my name out for them

They want me to bury it in the english so they can understand.

I will not accommodate the word for mouth

I will not break my name so your lazy english can sleep its tongue on top.

Fix your lips around it.

"

I can't help it.
        
      I
   still
   love
   You.

H I S , T O R Y.

     From the Greek word histōr;
     Learned, wise man.

                                               Need I say more?

Gravity is pulling way too hard these days.
Or is it the heavy blue of the sky that is weighing me down?

Perhapse it has always been this way.
Or perhaps it is due to my mere existence.
Life.
My life.
An endless depression. A suffering.
An extended metaphor describing this temporary earthly existence.
The promising highs and their corresponding lows like a beating heart.

But it all shall pass.
The sky will hang too low and gravity will pull too hard leaving me no choice but to crumble into death. The dust from which I came.
Death will find me, and relieve me from this suffering. This depression, this life.

Death;
An Eternal peace, my sweet escape.

In the beginning there was nothing.
The nothing from which we came.
The nothing to which we will return.
            The nothing that we were...

Before the word

Before light and dark

Before good and bad

Before truth and deceit

Before life and death

Before the complexities of reality and unreality...

The Beginning.
        The Universe.
                           God.
                              Us.
                                 Nothing.

                          We are nothing.
                      Everything is nothing.
                         Nothing is eternal.
    (So) What will become of us in the end?
                        
                        

                        We know nothing.

What is the truth of reality?
To me it's all just a mystery
Unfathomable by the human mind.
Bliss or something of that kind.

What is it with earth and humanity?
We use her and treat her with cruelty.
Is it her motherly love that keeps her so kind
or her contract with God that she has signed?

To us, life is war
A ceaseless struggle - It's all too sore.
Or is it just through ignorance
that we handle everything with violence?

We've breached the contract through which we were born
And yet we still wonder why we are so torn

A p a r t

Like earth's aching heart.
But she remains strong and true
throughout the pain and everything we do

What is the truth of reality?
To me it's all just a mystery.
I thought I'd find the answer through poetry
But all it has brought is melancholy

Far too long she sank in the motion
of the endless ocean
we call life.
Not knowing who she was, what she was doing,
And where she was going.
She let people eat at her, killing her like a cancer.

But finally she found the answer.

Hope is her name.
That is who she will be in the end
When death takes us all and only our dust and ashes remain.
When we realize that life was just a game.

There it was,  just like before;
The answer to the sole purpose of her existence.
The answer to her life's equation.

Be careful when you love another not to unlearn to love yourself.