I️ am a lonely faucet
crying crocodile tears.
Bound to the fear
of facing my fears.
What I see ahead of me
is darkness beheading me;
any future is dead to me.
I am a zombie,
I slipped like I'm wasted
and feeling sloppy.
Currents take me to the flood
to drown me in tsunami
with my senses left behind me;
everything is dead around me.

Life can be a hex,
overdosing stress.
The moon will call
and after all,
the colony recalls.
Better on and better off.

What is the body,
but a pile of meat?
Moving around,
seeking only to eat?

What makes us human,
what makes us strong?
What is it that pulls us along?

Do we have a soul?
Or just a mind?
Do we have an identity,
beyond what we can define?

What exactly lasts,
what thing underlies,
our very existence,
whose meaning is undefined?

Some call it "soul",
others simply "mind,
yet there are others,
who call it not "mine".

The first sees an eventual, heavenly life,
borne from the sacrifice of a holy Christ,
or the forgiveness and judgement of a heavenly being,
or the results of past actions, coming into being.

The second sees the mind,
a product of the brain.
No different from nature,
which never ceases or begins.
Having existed since beginningless time,
what comes to be, eventually declines,
and one is returned, to the darkness underlined.

The 3rd is one, who does not distinguish,
he sees the body and mind,
not as one who would wish,
for a lasting identity, or an eternal peace,
nor does he see it, as one who just is.

Instead he sees things, unlikely as it may,
the aggregates of consciousness and body, clear as day.
He does not deceive himself, thinking of meaning,
nor does he lie, thinking himself as "body".

He separates the speculation of a soulless man,
as he does the thought of a mind separate from man.
He overcomes the dualities which we normally comprehend,
With a sight that sees, what is simply at hand.

The truth that this body, its aggregates and mind,
are all but products of our imaginary mind,
which projects and creates,
in an endless thought-pattern,
a speculation that is ceaseless,
an identity to be had.

Instead he deconstructs,
he sees the body as it is,
an aggregate of thoughts, perceptions and things.
He overcomes the idea of "suffering" that exists,
and does not cling to the idea of "pleasure" for bliss.
He rests in the nature that is rightfully so,
not overthinking, whether he has a soul.
Because such things, are deceptions coming to be,
by the ever-thinking mind, always deceiving thee.

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.

The land beneath me burns away,
what I have always held at bay.

Emotions suppressed, feelings contained,
To whom can I share them without restraint?

Friends and family, Strangers and foes,
Whom will actually understand my woes?

Multitudinal emotions, feelings unrepressed.
Finally I release them, unsuppressed.

Many are in shock, while others in dismay.
They begin wondering, "You were not this way"

You used to be better,
You used to be happier,
You used to be calm,
without this...  anger.

Without the sadness expressed from the heart,
Without the anger experienced throughout,
what is left is but a shadow,
a false image, left in the meadow.

Though the path to growth lies in true peace,
amidst its progress lies emotional release.
Without expressing the emotions lying in one,
how can we understand the path that lies beyond?

The path to maturity, growth, understanding,
lies in a place beyond our fathoming.
Amidst this progress a painful tribulation,
Yet waiting for us, is an eventual destination.

Ivy.
It grows everywhere.
It can be poisonous,
or harmless.
Either way,
it's ivy.

I want to be like ivy.
A part of nature,
never to die.
But what use is nature,
when it sits and lies?
When it has no purpose,
other than to survive.
Isn't that the same as humanity?

Ivy is like humanity.
It grows around whatever it latches onto.
It adapts to it's environment.
It can be used,
and even admired.
It can also be hated,
and even decimated.

The energy within,
from which everything flows.
Care and concern,
for mother nature and its woes.

It is the will to care for the rest,
no matter how badly you may want to rest.
It is the energy to protect the weak,
regardless of the state of your own being.

It is not easy to continue onward.
Pain that you feel, as you travel forward.
Many things in life are not as they seem.
You should be happy, but often that's not a thing.

No matter how much one may seek to be better,
If their perspective is flawed, they won't get any better.
The power of emotions, the self and more,
overwhelm our wishes, our strength in the lore.

For no matter how strong the heroes of yore,
they eventually succumb, though through limitations they endure.

The wish to protect, all things that are dear,
the will to surpass, all predecessors in here
The energy to stand strong in the face of the world,
The power of compassion, defying death and more.

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?

Sometimes things don't go as foretold,
Sometimes we are forced to let go.

People, independent,
with the choices they make.
Are none of our business,
involving us as it may.

The wrenching feeling of separation,
causing us to act in desperation.
Taking away a part of us,
it is lost forever, in another person's arms.

Our happiness and joy,
in the hands of a friend.
Who at any moment,
can cease to befriend.

Deciding to ignore you simply out of hand,
not reconciling, but shunning instead.

The loved one's departure, a friend's choice to leave,
none of this is within our choice to believe.

For all things are impermanent,
all good things will cease.
The smallest things may cascade,
into an irreparable deed.

When a friend chooses to leave,
try hard as you may.
If you really love them,
you will truly let them be.

Thoughts and emotions,
growing like a plant.
Taking root,
inside my very heart.

It is this habit, this very thing,
which makes me attached to things outside me.
Friends and enemies, words and things.
The stresses which everyday life will bring.

It grows and grows,
as we feed it daily.
From a small sum,
to a massive tally.

This giant tree, grown from a sapling.
Is the sum of all feelings I invested within it.
Massive like the rising sun,
to uproot it, is harder than severing the horizon.

Thus control over this thing,
hard as it is.
As it forces you to feed it,
again with impunity.

Yet one day this tree,
becomes another ****.
******* the life forces from within thee.

At this point it's pointless,
the resources needed, endless.
There comes a time,
where we learn a lesson.

That some things when sown must eventually be reaped,
Not all things should be kept, lest we finally keel.

Pointless and meaningless,
an endless task to be done.
Eventually all things, must come undone.