What does it mean to be human?
The answer is far past biology,
and out of reach from philosophy.
Humans have pondered this question since they could speak,
sat around fires while living in caves,
They asked these questions from inside Babylon's gates,
and debated those answers since Greece and Rome,
how can we not have answered this question asked so long ago?

What does it mean to be human?
To have stardust in our veins?
To wonder and ponder,
constantly searching to understand each other,
often failing along the way.

I think being human means to doing all these things,
failing,
and getting up to do them again anyway.

The most damaging thing we've embraced as modern society is the consistent romanticization of everything,
by doing so we've convoluted love and lust.

This constant lustful romanticizing of everything,
it's ruining us.

We cannot fix hate in this world without love,
but we don't even know what love is anymore.

Love,
Real TRUE Love,
it's the most difficult thing in this world, but also the easiest.
It's hard.
Hard to find,
Hard to maintain,
Hard to keep.
Because real love is not an Disney movie fairytale happy ending,
it's a constant choice.

Real love takes effort, time and care.
You cannot simply swipe right on true love.

Lust and Love,
One is the most powerful emotion on the planet,
And the other?
A Kardashian worthy filter fake,
often not caught until too late.

I should wear a sign,
Posted for all to read,
“No soliciting.”
Would that be an easier thing to comprehend?
As, apparently, my words are not enough.
Not enough in volume,
In weight,
Oh especially not enough to stop anything,
Or anyone
From speaking
Unsolicited,
Throughly unhelpful,
Opinions.

Oh!
Sorry,
Sorry,
I forgot, they were selling “advice,”
Marketing switched words again…
BOGO I guess!

Though I find my soul is often disquieted,
and my heart seems perpetually heavy,
my bones
Oh, these bones...
They are more alive than words can describe.

I find my heart and soul are soft,
malleable,
prone to bruising,
and my heart has grown especially fragile.

But these bones of mine,
Oh, these bones...
blessed with unknown strength,
but not rigid.
Much like palm trees,
they weather the strongest of hurricanes,
swaying, dancing
leaning to the winds of life,
but always snapping back to place.

You remind me of Atlas,
Shouldering the heavens,
Cursed,
Never to let sky touch upon the earth.
Oh, what a burden...
Lift with your legs!
Embody your role,
understand what it means to be a Telamones.
Endure.

When I was younger,
I had a plant.

I loved my plant and took good care of it.
I watered that plant every single day,
I talked to it,
I made sure it had the best angles of sunlight,
but
my plant still died.

I sobbed for hours,
my father tried to console me,
but when asked that ever bothersome one word question
"Why?"

He simply said,
"Plants can die from too much care,
just as they can die from drought."