Separation is not only a matter of distance but also of purpose and will.

Looking back there are many mistakes
Should I have looked away?
Should I have shut up?
Regrets

Should I have faked it
Should I have tried harder
Now I sit here
No purpose

Rain hits the glass
The glass casing of my soul
As it begs for me to stop
To turn off the light

Maybe I'll turn it off soon

And here I have been able to find refuge.
It is more than a simple pencil and paper.
This is where my tears fall and my smiles last.
This is where I have been able to find purpose, sincerity, and freedom.
I have found love and understanding.
This is where I found my talent.
Here I have found my sweet escape.
This is where I found myself and I decide to stay.
In the pencil and paper.

The world breaks down,
into a cacophony of voices.

A symphony of strength,
a melody of choices.

The sum of our decisions and thoughts within,
give rise to a personality and character wherein:
Choices are made, and the path is sealed,
leaving no room except for one to yield.

To one's past decisions,
the actions which have wrought.
A series of consequences,
and what of it, a thought.

Of a better result than what has been seen,
Of a whole slew of decisions, however bad it may seem.
What we once chose,
become shackles that bind,
our very future,
into a dime.

We chase after shadows, figments of truth,
Of happiness and fulfilment, for good or for ill.
We choose a path, based on choices which shape,
whatever we become, for our happiness' sake.

Yet the pursuit of wealth, of money or success,
defined by others, and not by one's zest.
Will only lead to failure, a complete mess.

Of one's very own mind,
a confused wreck.
Not knowing the difference between what's good or bad.
The unending pursuit of one's own dream,
leads to an ending, that few have rarely seen.

For most seek power, and others seek wealth,
Few seek happiness, above all else.
The result of all these, what very few can see,
is the transformation of mind, from pure to unclean.

What is happiness, in truth,
but chemicals and flukes?
Based on this, people chase what's abstruse.

To succeed in society where happiness exists,
only at the top, while the rest subsist.
On scraps and inklings of what they deem to be,
a happiness that is perfect, worry-free and complete.

Thus they are trapped,
they don't begin to see,
the trappings of society,
so thorough and complete.

They don't see the happiness that lies in relief,
Or the pointlessness of striving toward what has yet to be.

Yet this very cessation,
of striving towards things,
is the very happiness that all wish to see.
Absolute freedom, an endless expanse.
Available right here, where we may truly rest.

Shaped by society to be narrow-minded and cold,
Let us break free, to be joyous and bold.
To enjoy the ecstasy that does not depend,
on cause and condition, or any expense.
Let us strive forth, to cease all attempts,
at seeking a happiness that requires us to attend.

May all of us enjoy, an eternity of rest.

The stilling of the mind,
so temporary and fine.

Grinding and breaking,
grounding and filling.
All things are turning,
and in for the making.

With contact, conception.
From perception, creation.
All ideas we have,
arise from destruction.

The bits and pieces of things once born,
the emptiness left when what's complete is gone.

Creation, Destruction,
Conception, Termination.
The cycle of things continue in procession.

For what's destroyed has pieces,
once put together,
containing within it a perfection beyond measure.

Thus things are recycled. ideas broken to create,
new things put together, what was once mashed by fate.

Piece by piece,
and part by part,
whats broken is complete,
like all things at the start.

So what does it matter,
when things fall apart?
We rebuild the beginning,
Right from the start.

To create a new future,
a story that is bright.
A series of advancements,
we all know is right.

Though we know we all die,
that things don't last forever.
Yet we do so happily,
knowing it will only get better.

The spreading of wings,
to cover the night of day.

The overbearing clouds,
keeping the sunrise at bay.

All things great, and all things good,
are things by all means, probably should.
Lead to happiness, prosperity, and joy within me,
or a simple contentment, a peace that will be.

Yet no matter what strives,
no matter what comes to be.
The characteristic of things,
is that they all cease to be.

Happiness. Sadness.
All good and bad.
Like the time of midnight,
vanishing in seconds.

Burning the fuels, and pushing the lies,
we strive ceaselessly, towards countless lies.
Of messages of a future we think we understand,
A glimmer of hope which we barely comprehend.

Needlessly striving, continually pursuing,
we arrive at the destination,
burning, smoldering.
Our wayward soul,
all the burns that follow,
and we look upon, to truly behold.

What we see are the joys,
temporary pleasantries,
a series of countless,
wastes and toiletries.

When we realize the path that we sowed has been done,
and all that we wish for, coming undone.
We begin to regret,
not knowing back then,
that a path which burns,
will lead to ashes in the end.

Yet it is not too late,
for there's always a chance,
that the truth will shine,
bright as the sun.

It is the moonlit night,
the salient breeze.
Which cools our hearts,
and soothes the feels.

When we release the burdens which have cindered us for so long,
what is left, is to go where we belong.

Peaceful and free, cool and placid,
it is then we can say, "Cooling down is worth it."

Labels and biased stickers,
Sharp whispers and evil snickers,
Dimmed hallways,
And a never-ending craze.
Three minutes, no two!
What do you want to do?
Come on, you have to say it, you!
Let this shroud darken your view.

On the street, men with two left hands,
Assault orders, without plans.
Where God has left his mercy,
So too, lies his hypocrisy.
Say it now!
Hurry quick, it’s something I’ll allow.
One solemn verse, one final vow.
Tell me how you’ll end your days, how?

Freedom of speech, but no freedom of choice.
So much sound, yet not a single voice.
I come from a sea, loud and wild,
The last time I smiled, was when I was a mere child.
But now I stand and bask in my glory.
I will not be classified in any category!
I will scream and tell my story!
Death is certain, but life is mandatory.

There is the red in her eyes
Her passion as she sprinted for the gold
There is blue in his fingers
His soul when he played sheets of old

There is yellow in her smile
How she can even brighten the sun
There is green in their voice
As they harmonize many as one

There is brown in his feet
Stable roots for his family's needs
There is gray in her mind
What revolutionary invention will she find?

The world is so colorful
With people who make it so bright
But when I try to search for my own color
I find nothing, nothing at all
And I simply fade to white.

The empty expanse,
now clear before me.

A vast landscape,
A wide variety.

Thousands of things,
which act without royalty.

All beings act thus,
out of free will,
making many choices, for good or for ill.
They take many actions,
depending on their mood or the weather.
Choosing casually thus,
they affect the latter.

For one's life is not a void,
decisions are not empty.
One man's choice,
will affect all of the laity.

Interconnectedness to all that will be,
decisions will reach far, like a king's decree.
Knowing thus, and seeing thee,
one begins to act with certainty.

Being grounded in knowledge,
Clear seeing of truth.
The awareness and wisdom,
that's not simply, aloof.

One begins to act,
with pure joy and tact,
in accordance to all that is good and fact.

These men are praised,
as men of value.
As people who act,
with poise and valour.

They will be remembered,
as men of their day.
When all they did,
was simply obey.

Nature's laws and creatures,
the meaninglessness of critters,
coming together,
to form a system of leeches.

Knowing thus and yet going beyond.
These men who obey,
are not simply pawns.

They transcend into legend,
stories told of their fame,
yet all they did,
was to be grounded in their name.