Faith is like breathing.
You can rest assured that
no matter what you are doing,
your lungs will keep on
drinking the air and
carrying oxygen through your blood and to
every last vestige in your body.
Give up trying to control it,
as it will do as it pleases
regardless
of your attempts to slowly **** yourself or
extinguish all ambiguity and randomness
in the world around you.
Control out of chaos?
Your eyes waking up in the morning is chaos.
Each lash bending
slightly in proportion
to every other lash it is connected too.
We are like plants,
where our roots interconnect and
stretch back further than
recorded history to a time where
we planted the seeds
in fear
that our family would splinter and
mutate into a massive **** of
imaginative constructs like
nations and creeds
which we knit so tediously into
every new idea or situation that attracts itself to us.
Like mirrors to the world,
our eyes only reflect
what they have been shown.
Both in distorted waves of fantasia and
in clear pictures and representations of
our fragmented pasts.
Our memories are jigsaws,
putting them together only to realize
that the reward looks nothing like
the picture we thought we were building for ourselves.
No matter how dark and dismal some pieces may appear
they are only there to keep us from
going blind in the light.