Where do I go when I die? And where is a young pet how will I know if I never can test out this question
Do I need to run until my Heart gives out while I get chased By a dog If we go and stop at the same time Will we both fall?, Together? Will we go to the same place? Then will I know? Would I have any recollection Of why I did it at first… But after all this running, don’t know if it’d suffice I might fall from thirst And give up the device Of my mind? If I die, if I’m to fall it’s such a waste Just to solve a simple question I’m not sure if it’s worth the risk If I’m right or wrong I wish I could float off in space in a bubble of energy and travel twice the speed of light, and what if that’s better than heaven but definitely better than hell oh, I wonder what I become when I die
I've been toiling with the concept of temperance, and these are my thoughts today. Practicing the allowance of loosening my grasp, and exploring the wonderment of fear. Acceptance that everything is fluid and a mess of interpretation. Rhetorical verbiage cannot console me. Words are just an interpretation that is perceived individually. A philosophical debate in every meaning. Everyone is right, and everyone is wrong. Explore narratives. Explore experiences that differentiate us. Explore.
I'm juggling complex emotions while grappling with my needs for stability and freedom. The limitation of mimetic expression, and the fear of uncertainty and loss of control. The earth tries to explain this to us at a young age as seasons change. We have no control, and change is inevitable but beautiful if you see the positive. I'm overcome with fear and excitement for this world that I've only just discovered. Before it lay hidden behind distortion, expectation, and self-regulation. To experience and love is the only goal. We are no one, just beings of the same symbiotic consciousness experiencing ourselves through one another. I don't have control over this. I can try my best by the people I love, but by the end of the day, nothing will go my way.
Deconstruct nurture, and explore nature. Limitations through perceived expectations. We are performing instead of living. Constantly under fear of judgment for not acting well to the roles we have been given. We forget that we are siblings and reinforce this idea of fault when trauma and perception are the true separators between us. We don’t see one another anymore. We see status and expectation.
We need to step back and wipe away who we should be and discover who we are. Temporary beings born to love, inspire and share.
Behind all the angst and rant, Behind all that frustration and days of solitude, A child struggling to make amends. Behind all that smoke and ashes, Behind that sorrow hiding in mask, A boy choking himself not to cry. The Big Bad World will move on without your existence and soon you'll turned into dust and no legacy left to mourn over. "Oh Mama! What do I do now? The sleep alleviated the pain. In dreams, I found my escape."
Stoical heart yet the urge to cry Unable to shead a tear, 'Cause the biggest fear to open up and try Made me to drown myself in my own state of anxiety. Did the broken soul find a hug? Not a single person cared to bug. I am not what has happened to me Bounded by fate or dejection Choices and rejection Part and parcel of life. I am what I chose to be. I'll break and I'll fall I'll rise and fly Till I find my wings soared high.
" What happens when people open their hearts? They get better.. " ~ Haruki Murakami ♥
The world will never heal your pain With all the comfort to conceal, yet clothed in stain. When you go astray with each mundane days Throwing the fist up in the air The concept that ponder, "we will find salvation in His care" Yet you still can't help but wonder, "Does He ever heard our pray'r?" Can I find the God in a man Holding a grip over my own reality May I not go insane. Lurking around darkness Trying so hard to clean up the mess. Did my prayers go unanswered? I, a skeptical human Won't give up the question in vain. Like the flower in the rain Let the wounds open Rescued from the Lion's Den.
Skeptic & cynical yet the little spark of faith still remains. ⚡
Most of our childhood memories were not printed on photos but in certain biscuits, comic books, sight of the playground where the noises still echoes in our ears, the hugs of our friends, the touch of our mother's care and concern when sickness troubled. And slowly, we drifted away from the state of innocence with a stoical heart to face the music.