Roots rip through dirt in search of water like fire burns through pages searching for morals, the ocean screams as it evaporates and raindrops never signed up for skydiving, there is nothing gentle about a breeze shoved forward in a scream of defeat.
There is no peace in a world with anger heating its core and no dividing lines between good and bad,
the world is a grey area where everything is relative,
good and bad,
wrong and right,
illumination can be a synonym to salvation and damnation,
to a bright new beginning or the end of observation,
there is no all seeing eye that can also cast judgements,
no figment story or drug is any more important than our mysteriously unbalanced brains allow it to be and there is no other human but yourself who you will love and hate so intensely as the one who hides behind the mirror. Keep your shoulders broad when your back is weak, accepting responsibility is a much easier thing to practice than carrying each load,
people will wander in and out of your life,
some will leave footsteps or trinkets as reminders,
some will leave and never be re-minded,
selective porousness is the path to the correct tribe and the proper feeders of your flame,
let people come and go from your life as their path demands but reserve the right to deny them that right when you feel your dignity questioned.