The freedom to choose,
for good or for ill,
the happiness of the world,
or the destruction of its ilk.

The very choices we make,
shape the essence of our mind.
Who we eventually become,
is what we come to define:
As our identity and purpose,
our goals and will,
the energy to strive for,
What we deem to be real.

We all seek happiness,
and avoid the rest.
Undermining the cause,
of our happiness at best.

At worst it collapses,
our goals and its means.
It denies us the happiness,
which we all seek.

So what we choose to express,
should be all that we can.
Yet we must always be mindful,
of exactly when.

For there are those who judge,
and others who whisper,
People who stab you,
without hearing you whimper.

However hard this path may be,
undeniably, it brings true peace.
Expressing yourself as full as can be,
eventually you find, a purpose to live.

Be it a true friend,
or a partner for life.
Being simply true,
will lead others to find,
that happiness and sadness are but one thing.
And that true peace always lies, underneath this.

Born I live,
happy and free.

Roaming the houses like a chimpanzee,
but I'm a Gecko, how can that be?
I chase after the insects and all pests that be,
for the sake of my stomach, and friends-that-be.

Eventually I grow,
a long tail and a ***,
larger than the biggest cockroaches that roam.
I live completely peacefully,
no **** to be seen,
nor scaring the daylights,
out of the family with me.

My life is short,
but I am happy.
Insects and friends,
who always join me.

The same family every day which I see,
giving me a job,
and leaving a warm house for me.

I live in peace,
up to my end.
Living and leaving,
a legacy to defend.

Passing the torch on to my descendents-to-be,
I close my eyes,
never to open them again.

May all that know me,
by sight or by scent,
live happily like me,
to their own life's end.

The sight of the future,
from seers of past.
Imagining something in the present at last.

Constructing a future that is unseen,
from present variables, both without and within.

A place of chaos, this world is,
good things and bad, intermix like lists.
Combining and melding, all futures into one,
the results that come about are hard to fathom.

To imagine a future with one's own life at stake,
Countless men travel towards one path they wish to take.
All of them head towards one thing which they see,
that will bring them the happiness, which all of them seek.

Yet a happiness that is limited,
a joy that is shared,
is something that will be fought for,
for good or for bad.

The solution is thus not,
to challenge and despair,
to fight endlessly on a path,
that requires constant repair.

Take the road less travelled,
the path right at hand.
Which others call bleak,
but you see the truth, Amen.

A happiness and peace,
granting complete ease.
A path I envision,
where we'll all enjoy a feast.

The future is unclear,
yet the present is now.
How about we make use of it,
to make a future where we're proud?

How do I know when to stop editing, to stop critiquing,
To stop looking for errors that I'll inevitably find
Courtesy of my flawlessly functioning mind
That does what It's told
And finds what It's told to find
In a sea of subjective humbug

Let's try working backwards. Let's try
Finding what resonates with us. How do we
Do that if we have no idea what resonates with us.
How do you find a hole in an air mattress or a weak spot in the drywall or
The small of your lovers back

You ******* look for it

How do you find a needle in a haystack
Why not try using up the hay
Before digging around for the small hazardous object
You ******* lunatic

Oh, but this is full of errors
I can see them from here

Have you not legs?
Well then have you not wheels?
Well what have you?
Good! USE IT.

Picture a room
Through the slit of an iron maiden
What do you see
A room

What do you feel

Why

Could you feel differently
If
You tried

Stop picturing, start looking, continue feeling and being?

Bah, try doing. Keep busying. Busying is key, and the lock is none of your concern.

It's probably a ****** one anyways. Who knows what it holds shut. Who knows
How effectively it holds it shut. Who knows what lies behind the thing that It's
Holding shut.

Shut up,

Ps. I love you

-MR-

Energy flowing,
like the unceasing river.

Strength building,
like a geyser gushing.

The power of peace, supreme of all.
Happiness, joy, which no others can withdraw.

Tis' the unparalleled happiness of peace.
Blameless, free, and completely at ease.

The powers that be,
build up incessantly.
The world is bleak,
Do we have to be?

The gravity of nature,
The swirling thunderstorm,
A hurricane that sweeps,
across even Mount Rushmoore.

The growing strength of nature's wrath,
The unrelenting of force of our own mind's stab.
Suffering which mixes, condenses and grows,
Is there an end to this unrelenting flow?

The answer is Strength, overwhelming Power.
The Will to overcome all that is Nether.
It is Mind that exists, with its growing splendour,
an energy that subsists, on its own grandeur.

In the face of depression, painful it may be,
the mind self-perpetuates, what it thinks is good for thee.
Soon people confuse the darkness in mind,
To be the very, nature of mind.

How wrong could they be?
How could they not see?
That it is not mind, but their own strength that is,
the thing that has created,
all the stress there is.

To break this reality, the conditioning which is,
To overcome the nature of all that do this.
To shatter conceptions, notions overcome,
Trust is the first step, which will overrun,
all of the things built up to this day,
Like a strong men's will, easily swept away.

So what will you do? Will you believe?
Will you take the first step, so that you can truly see?
Will you walk the long path, with the powers that be?
To face nature's wrath, and society's bad deeds?
Will you all trust yourself, all your strength held in,
And hold fast against the storm, raging within?

From the dawn of time,
To the break of day,
Beings which live,
progress day by day.

Be they small,
or be they tall,
all humans are characterized,
By the way they fall.

The steeper the *****, the bigger the fall,
yet that elusive goal, becomes better for all.

Some fall fast, while others stand tall,
Some stand with others when they know they'll fall.

Filled with ambition, or the need to survive,
All strive their best, regardless of the grind.

Lofty goals abound, reasonable ones flourish.
The ones who chase after them,
like moths going to perish.

Seeking simple paths, some never fall,
yet the joy that they feel, is not something for all.
Living life with regrets, with things left undone,
they abandon their beliefs for that which has none.

Others aim high, reaching for the sky,
Even without ability, they believe themselves to fly.
Not percipient of danger, nor grounded by truth,
Even if they succeed, it is entirely a fluke.
In time they fall, as things cease to be,
thus dwelling on the pain and anguish of this,
They ultimately perish, emptiness within thee.

Yet others remain reasonable, firm and strong,
Striving for goals, ideals yet in reach.
With a plan of action, they move step by step,
Falling continuously, yet continuing without rest.

These men of knowledge, wisdom and strength,
know what is of value, goals and when.
They do what is needed, no more no less,
Understanding their limits, they progress where they can.
Picking the time, date and place,
They progress ceaselessly at their own pace.
Walking a path, no other dare face.
Eventually they succeed, doing what no other has done in their place.

Fulfilling their wishes, these three types of men,
lay down paths which all can comprehend.
The path well travelled, is one documented,
yet it remains one, for those simply content.
Their paths are normal, insignificant to most,
yet within contains tranquility beyond those foremost.
For what is deep is simple, what is profound, penetrating.
Those which are simple, may have seen all paths converging.
Seeing the truth lying within one single space,
he walks the shortest path, where the truth stays in place.

The path next travelled, is one filled with fools,
those with ambition, and the guts to pursue.
Lessons abounding, it is a path less travelled.
For the bravery you need, cannot be unravelled.
A path with a victory nowhere in sight,
one can only hope what he does is right.
Yet at the end of the day, be it success or may-day,
There will be those happy in this day.
This self-made goal, with no end in sight,
That is what makes these people fight.

The final path, is the path of the sage.
Penetrating the light, they are endowed with what’s wise.
Without an end in sight,
Nor a beginning to be seen,
They enlist the help of others, to make what should have been.
Combining the efforts, of all those who are wise.
They lead everyone, to the very next sunrise.
Paving a path, slowly but surely,
All hardly fall, yet are brought with surety,
A final destination that everyone seeks,
Creating a future that none will call bleak.

What is left behind, are many paths men will find,
Stories and legends, tales of success.
Goaded by what they are driven in life,
All will ultimately choose, what legacy they leave behind.

The beauty of the day,
long and hot it may be,
Eventually its beauty,
will cease to be.

The sun which shines,
illuminates the world, across all empty skies.
Through wind and rain,
clouds and night,
the impact of its light,
is simply all that is bright.

Yet all that is goodness,
Warmth and Joy
That which is value,
do not last to help you.

As the day passes,
this very sun shifts.
Across the land,
this very sun drifts.

The splendour of good men,
prevalent they may be,
are like the sun which brings everyone,
Ecstasy.

A lamp in the darkness,
A guide to the lost,
The sign which tells others,
"Not everything is lost"

With the passage of time,
people are forgotten.
Vague memories of past,
like ideals, begotten.

What was once good,
Replaced by the bad.
What was once bright,
Replaced by the dark.

The shadows of the sun illuminate the land,
Gradually darkness, completely descends.

I lament the darkness, the loss of good,
the prevalence of decadence and immoral prudes.

Yet in the corner of my eye, a brightness still shines,
far brighter than even the sun at noontime.

Reflected across, the resplendent water-like mirror,
Is that which is good, shining ever brighter.

The Virtues that be, Honesty and Peace.
The Wish that all beings, will be at ease.
The Strength to carry on with unwavering will,
in the ensuing darkness, about to prevail.

It is at times of darkness, where warriors stand and fight,
Where enemies hide in the darkness of night.
Facing an impossible, unending task,
They pick up the pace,
Without any question to ask.

Eventually they pass on,
their lives forgotten,
Yet their impact remains,
As "The Brightest Men of Day"

The Light of Fire,
Burning Bright,
Shines across the moonlit plain.

There it lies, untouched, unmarred.
Steady like the shining sun.

Yet no matter how strong, steady and bright,
Eventually it snuffs out under the moonlit night.

And there lies darkness, empty and cold,
it fills up the place, until ages of old.

What comes will go,
What is bright shall cease.
Nothing is there,
that will not be like this.

Yet even this darkness,
all-pervasive it may be.
Eventually it, too.
Ceases to be.

With the break of night,
Impermanence dawns.
Even that which is not,
becomes nothing as well.

In darkness and cold,
all beings tremble.
Some become lights for others to handle.
They guide other beings, no matter who they may be,
and bring them to places they would never see.

Giving others glimpses of what it means to be bright,
even when gone, others begin to seek the light.

Eventually time passes, these flames disappear,
remnants of a time where people adhere.
To values and truth, of goodness and will,
A power and strength which none can prevail.

Thus in the darkness of night, people reside.
They push on and eventually,
see the dawn of light.

What covers the sky, however broad it may be.
And what shields us from the sun, however powerful it may seem?
What blocks the moonlit sky, Beautiful and bright,
And what blots out the stars, descending in the night?

Illusory yet real, intangible yet present.
It covers the sky like a watery blanket.

Blocking the warmth and the brightness of day.
Shielding us from joys as it may.

For no real purpose, meaning or reason,
it covers our sight from what it deems treason.

Moonlit beauty, a boundless sky,
the everlasting light after an unending night.

Shielding the world from the splendour of the weather,
it prevents us from seeing,
What truly matters

The rain then comes, and the clouds disappear,
What seemed so everlasting, disappearing like the wind.

Like these clouds are thoughts,
Blocking our perception.
Clouding our view,
as though life is in their possession.

They mould our thoughts and shift our sights,
They stop us from seeing what is within our right.

Deceiving us, we trust their belief,
choosing the clouds over what truly exists.
Eventually we forget, a life before this,
A life of beauty, brightness and gifts.

Mixed with the moods of melancholy and reflection,
the unclouded mind, is just this clear perception.

Rather than saying, that our thoughts are us.
What if we look beyond, and see that there is nothing within us?

Within nothingness a something,
Within change a permanence.

Our identity is something, beyond all thoughts and words.