The echoes of the mind,
reverberate like bells,
across the empty, endless halls.

The corridors of memory,
containing pain and ecstasy,
pervade the emptiness,
within the noiseless forest.

An unending passage,
an unceasing path.
The uneasy silence that accompanies us.

Thus we thrive in noise,
dance and song,
never once remembering,
where it went wrong.

Occupying our minds,
with past and future things,
wasting the present and all that is,
what's left is nothing, simply this.

We cry in pain,
we cry in sorrow.
We feel the anguish that comes with tomorrow.

We feel the sadness and pent up regret,
and all the things that we left repressed.

Alone with nothing but thoughts in mind,
we forget the peace that's within our mind.
Between what's familiar and what is unknown,
we neglect the latter for a pain well known.

So what is the meaning, what is the point,
of choosing a noise, for which none would rejoice?
I empty my mind, I abandon my wish,
I simply relax, in what simply is.

For within noise is silence, within darkness a day,
hidden behind a curtain which may,
conceal a truth, or reveal a light.
It is your choice, will you stand and fight?

Thoughts of the future,
Visions of the past.
The present moment,
simply does not last.

Time is spent,
unceasingly,
on speculation and niceties.

The self-deception plaguing oneself,
The unceasing banter regarding wealth.
What is left, to truly spend,
is an echo, a fraction, of what we truly have.

Paying attention to useless things,
occupying the mind with countless daydreams.

Imaginings of futures never coming-to-be,
Recollections of a past causing hurt to me,
What is left is but a bare fraction,
the actual time that is spent on the present.

Wasting away the gifts of time,
we squander the present, however benign,
on the past and future, or thoughts of the present.

Rather than seeing what is truly inherent,
the very impermanence that defines the present,
We miss our chance,
the biggest chance there is,
to shape our future, however bleak it is.

As with countless drops one can fill a ***,
day by day we can always walk.
For the path of a thousand miles begins with a step,
with the beginning at hand, the end we will beget,
the very future, we will seek to protect.

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.