Life long lived- But never spent.

A box.
Wondrous toy for a child.
Memories lost for an adult.

The hopes of a small child is a powerful yet fragile wonder.
His will and optimism unmatched.
His heart's deepest lust for identity.

Identity.
In this huge, ever-forgetful, engulfing world.

Yet here lies another child's dream.
His passion.

As the earth revolves in an unending dance of mortal eternity.

Here lies another man's will to accomplish
Greatness.

For the acceptance of nothing.

My tragedy, the tale of Pyramus and Thisbe.
For I stood, whispering into the lover's hallowed stone.
Wondering would it ever be?
For every love I have shared, Thisbe has never known.

What is life?
What is death?

What is waste?
What is purpose?

What is good?
What is evil?

What is?

All different, yet all one.
Nihilistic ambiguity,
What is?

If you have thought the thoughts,
You might be like me- trapped.
What is?

Is our purpose to be successful?
To leave something behind?
To be remembered?
To be a conqueror and a Man of Free Will?
Or are we just a doll of rag in Fate's playhouse?

What is life without death?
What is good without evil?
What is pleasure without suffering?
Are they not equals?

Such is life in her horrific beauty,
Deceptively, yet excitingly... ambiguous.

What is Churchill without ******?
What is Richard without Saladin?
What is humanitarianism without dehumanization?
Are they not both equally powerful?
However, are they also not both one?

What is the difference between a terrorist and a freedom fighter?
One is someone who wrecks havoc for something that you do not believe in,
While the other is someone who wrecks havoc for something that you do believe in.
Wait...

What is justice and what is tyranny?
What is moral and what is immoral?
Well...
The true question is, to whom is it a moral law and to whom is it an immoral law?

That is when you realize, that everything is one.

Truths become lies,
Lies become truths,
Good become evil,
Evil become good,
Hate become love,
Love become hate,
Justice become unjust,
Injustice become just.

Meaningful becomes meaningless,
As a couple's carnation is destined to wither and turn to dust.

Yet, in it's beauty, both sarcastic and cruel,
The meaningless becomes meaningful.
Being trapped sets you free.

And that is when you realize,
Life is not about being told what is right or wrong.
Life is not about leading the way,
Nor is it about following a person.
It is not about following a code,
A tradition, or a set path.

What is, becomes up to you.
What you believe in,
What is just,
What is moral,
Is something only you can tell yourself.

You may learn from others.
However, nobody reads the same sentence the same way.
And even on the same roads nobody has the same journey.

There is no purpose to anything,
There is no good,
There is no free will,
There is no fate,
There is no truth,
Nor is there a lie.
Everything is meaningless...

All meaningless... until, you breathe meaning into them.

In a way, you are just a passing moment in this Universe.
A tock on a ticking clock.
A small ant in the cosmic world.
A weakling whose death day is already marked on the calender.

Yet, until that moment, and until that day comes.
Without you, the Universe has no meaning.
Without you, there are no truths, no morals, no goals, and no purpose.

For you breathe purpose into this world,
As you write your infinite story into this leather bound diary of life.

Alone in a room,
Music slowly plays,
Songs of loneliness,
Songs of loss,
Yet songs of love.

Concealed in darkness,
Retreating from reality.
Every strums of the guitar,
Pulling me deeper and deeper

away

My eyelids close,
Allowing a tear out,

In darkness,
In blindness,
A disoriented, dark, slowly fading light, shines on.

A beacon of hope and sorrow,

Alone in the room.
Concealment in the dark
Quiet screams for help.

Life sure is a mystery...

One whistle of a wind,
I am on top of the world,
One drop of rain,
I am in a room concealed by dark.

The light shines in a dark room resistant,
Yet so futile.

A knock on the door remains ignored,
A child, once afraid of the dark, embraces it's warm concealment.

Absolute quiet as the guitar continues to strum.

Songs, oh the songs.
The sweet melodies.
Words that taste like nectar.
Notes that speaks to the very soul.

Just for one moment,
A song makes sense.
Nonsense becomes reality.

Have I finally gone mad?
Have I refuted reality?

My heart becomes darker and colder.
Yet I embrace it.

Slipping away

The knock becomes more anxious.
A voice pleading.

Slipping

Gone into the concealing darkness

The beacon of hope turns off.
The Lonely Light dies out,
The room is left dark.

Nothing to disturb this peace.
Pitch black and quiet.
Warm and alone in this room.

A Single Wish.

Slipping Away

Into Infinite Concealment of a Blank Room.

The door swings opens,
Shining the light of reality into the room,
Disturbing the sacred peace of the darkness.

But I am already gone.

*Slipped Away To A Better World

I finally did it today.
Tired,
Out of breath,
Ready to collapse,
But I finished.

I've always trailed behind everyone.

But at points in which I wanted to give up,
You told me to keep going.
Stay strong.
Build endurance.
Fight and win.

I trusted you and kept you in a special place in my heart,
Whenever I struggled, I looked for those words of inspiration,
Of Hope.

Then a fight happened,
You insulted me,
Told me I could never do it,
You destroyed my pride,
Made me humble.

Did I cry? No.
Did I give up? No.
Was I furious? Yes.

How ironic.

At the finish line my friends congratulated me,
the coach gave me a pat on the back,
but you weren't there.

How weird,
In the end the one thing that kept me running.
Was the pride you helped me build and destroy.

How ironic

After everything, I only have one thing to say to you.
You built everything and destroyed it,
You assaulted not only my pride, but myself.
Then you left...

But when you left, you left me something.
You left me a blueprint and a message.
The message: You are on your own now.
The blueprint, a blueprint to self training and self reliance.

You showed my humility,
You showed the true state I was in,
You showed me who I truly was,
but you also showed me my potential.

I built on that knowledge,
and with the blueprint,
I rebuilt myself and who I am.

It is ironic.
Because at the end,
The logical thing for me to remain mad.
The logical thing for me is to hate you.
The logical thing for me is to despise you.

But it is ironic.

Because at the end,
On this hill,
Staring into the sunset,
As sweat dripped down my face,
As my heart began to calm,
As my lungs began to quieten,
As the cool winds blew past me,
On the Hill of my Victory.

At the end I only have one thing to say.

Thank You.

Thank You,
with all my honesty and integrity,
I thank you for doing what you did to me.

If you hadn't I would've never been where I am now.

So at the end,
although it is logical for me to be angry, to hate, to despise.
I nevertheless thank you.