To say one is a survivor implies
That they are the remainder
Who lived through unsurmountable odds
Where others did not

Survivor implies the hardship has past

But the survivor's journey does not end
Even when the ashes settle
And the bodies are counted
When the funerals are held
And grave stones are set

The survivor survives

They survive the guilt
The **** within their spirit
That haunts there conscience and steals all comfort

For the Survivor knows
They will bleed to the day they die

We have become accustomed to believe
That what we make
And create
Must follow the directions that come in the box
Or else we hate it
For being wrong

We have set a standard to our lives
That our accomplishments must fall in line
And fit perfectly into the boundaries we conjured

But there is something beautiful in chaos
When we shed the delusion for the need of order
To let go and free fall into the unknown
We finally see what can be
And the hidden potential
Is something beautiful to experience

How funny to think
That all this time

As I have scribbled words onto pages
Yearning to find a purpose
Yearning to find a person

Dreaming that when I found them
Pages and pages would be filled

With words bleeding onto the paper
And countless volumes written about us

But in reality, I was wrong
In reality, there is no room for words

For I have been living the moment
And ironically, did not think to write for awhile.

At first we try to understand
We probe around the idea
But our biases get in the way
And smudge the lenses we look through
We weigh our morality
Trying to fit it within what we believe
To be right
Eventually we hate it
And then it becomes our enemy
Because we fear
How it will change us

Look now and see your own demise
When in the past you were full with pride
Gluttonous on the spoils of accomplishment
As you consumed without fail, without end

But as all things are
Like crests and troughs
The highs always reflect the lows
And your consumption became a weight
That now drags on your legs
Like a ball and chain

Those who fly too close to the sun
Who ride on the winds of favor
Singe their wings and fall back down to earth

I write this to welcome you back to reality
To remind you that all kingdoms fall
And that your prideful gluttony has now taken its toll
Chaining you to the ground
Beneath all those you once looked down upon

What if we never died?
What if there was no such thing as a brief life?
Nor a tragic end?

Would we feel meaning in the things we do?
Or value in the loves we cherish?
If nothing ended, would anything retain its value?

Could we really live for the end of days?
And find the light as radiant as always before?

If we never feared an end to it all?
Would our experiences diminish to nothing?
Perhaps the loom of death gives a gentle push
And the grim reaper waits idly by
Watching with fervor to see our many accomplishments
As we race against his pocket watch of destiny