somewhere under the earth lies the truth. somewhere written in the heavens; the true nature is out there. every single living creature being on anything at all is an ugly distortion of the truth. i’m not saying we’re supposed to spend our whole lives devoted to becoming a less-ugly rendition; i’m not saying pleasing God is the answer for me. we are all meant to be faulted,
flawed. we should not be tortured to claw at a nothingness we can never
obtain. there is
a lot left in the emptiness of rain. there is a lot left in the pair of eyes that refuse to meet my gaze. we fall to the basis as we raise the base higher “be this much – reach this level – for God’s sake, go to college!" God does not need me in college. maybe i will go there and struggle to find God in the faces that pass in the dust after it settles;
there will be peace there. there really is no need for this; for things to be this way. we are keeping ourselves in cages and God is throwing away the key. it is not his job to set us free. it is not his will to enslave us. it is WE that don’t let ourselves be. the scary, sad, condemning thing—that’s the irony.
we are fractals. reoccuring patterns deemed nothingness but:
there are colors there. there are colors within the folds. “life is but a soaring dream”
when we see, we laugh, we think, we pray, we dream; we be.
when we cry, we die, we fail, we lose, we pray, we dream; we be. there is not one separate thing we ever did see. we are all fractals. reoccurring dreams.
reoccurring days when nothing seems to change—those are the still moments. the still moments are sacred. for it is only in the stillness (if we ever let ourselves be still—in thought, form, in space)
that the peace will come. the truth will come. and the truth will come ugly; to remind us we are ugly too. that dreams can turn to dust and we can watch and feel as they disintegrate.
the truth will never be pretty. i hope we can find the recognition to allow
peace to flow –
and i will marvel all the same. it is the truth that makes me stay.