You get lost navigating the corners of your emotions
Some days you’ll read a poetic interpretation of happiness
And you’ll be restless, just like the words described
You don’t know how the walls of mixed emotions could stand so tall
But now you’re here waving a white flag
Hoping that the windows would
Stop caving in.

But even you know,
That once you’ve surrendered yourself to your heart
You would feel whole again
But it’s the feeling of being lost
In a maze of emotions

Where purpose resides.

Remember what it felt like to have eyes on you
Most of that is gone now.
But the anxiety isnt gone.
You have no audience but the show must go on
You still have to dance like everyone should be watching even though no body is.

Anxiety is a made up audience.
Make them a good and caring audience.
Don't sell your soul to people you wouldnt approve of.
Made up or real.

Dance so you know who you dance for even when they aren't there

Atrisia.

Why should you study?
And persevere? And listen?
And write? For people--
For the people you'll see, for there are just
few you'll. And still fewer among them, who
will be around to see you.

In a makeshift heaven of this world,
This world fits right in- not without gaps,
Not the best close-packing ever.
Which lets you think and shift the pieces forever.

Not at all exciting, if you want to
See it that way. But do you have a choice--
Except all the the ones you haven't tried
already? Hinged to the far side of moon
You might be, but wither you'll soundlessly
off this grand tree. So a fair chance there is
you might see, where this is going and realize soon: You won't know if science has advanced, You won't know if you've made enough amends, You won't know anything
except for the people you'll see, even what they've to say, you've to understand.

I’ve been searching for my life’s purpose for a couple of years and let me tell you this.
The only thing that I’ve discovered is that:
“There are no lights, music and fireworks for us, buddy, in the land of self-development”

No lofty aspirations to be realized.
Nor shiny kick *** careers to be given attention to.
NO SUCH LUCK.

The only thing that exists is kind of pessimistic albeit genuine.
As far as I know, it is your only chance of doing anything.
“Only the principle of minimum effort rules the underworld that’s lodged deep within our heads”
(The voice said)

Again the voice spoke. (This time with a much more demanding tone)
“Do the least you can do and do it well”
“For there is no place for underachievers like you here in OUR domain”

Mind is
homeless
when has
no
purpose.

I couldn’t sleep.
My brain shivered when I moved my eyes.
I felt invincible
“Invincible” fails to describe it.
Then I was a cockroach
Crawling like a little bug
My head missing each obstacle
Just enough to feel them
Brush their matter against me
Blowing a rush of air back at me
Warning me my choices are crucial.
Cutting it close to the end
But - I don’t mind it.
-I’d be a liar if I said
I didn’t like it this way-
Some fear the discomfort called the unknown.
I welcome it with open arms
A gift in each hand.
As long as it never bores me.
Life must never be boring.
Fear is inevitable
It is always present
My greatest weakness.

Life is not the time to find your purpose
It is the time to create it

Love is her Belief and her Commandment
by Michael R. Burch

for Beth

Love is her belief and her commandment;
in restless dreams at night, she dreams of Love;
and Love is her desire and her purpose;
and everywhere she goes, she sings of Love.

There is a tomb in Palestine: for others
the chance to stake their claims (the Chosen Ones),
but in her eyes, it’s Love’s most hallowed chancel
where Love was resurrected, where one comes
in wondering awe to dream of resurrection
to blissful realms, where Love reigns over all
with tenderness, with infinite affection.

While some may mock her faith, still others wonder
because they see the rare state of her soul,
and there are rumors: when she prays the heavens
illume more brightly, as if saints concur
who keep a constant vigil over her.

And once she prayed beside a dying woman:
the heavens opened and the angels came
in the form of long-departed friends and loved ones,
to comfort and encourage. I believe
not in her God, but always in her Love.

Keywords/Tags: Love, God, belief, commandment, faith, desire, purpose, tomb, resurrection, soul, heaven, heavens, saints, vigil, angels, tenderness, affection