The Irony of it All.

The gruesome picture of death is painted across these pages. Blood shed, to create empires, like paying nature for what she has with what she created, reasoning with nothing that makes sense. Perhaps we believe that the land is ours; that by being the most intellectual organism, we begin to believe that we possess the right to rule over the land. That the written or spoken word is what gives us the chance to claim leadership. That we being the bishops of a master plan possess the power to claim the entire board.

But what does this claim mean? Do we possess enough strength to rule justly over the entire world? Does this world need only intellectuals? Was evolution only upto the mental development?

If so, another issue must be answered. Should the Kings of the system, be subject to human emotions, be overcome by wrath that he should lose all reason? Why is it that at a certain point in our lives, we feel the need for something more? We achieve wealth, fame and status. Perhaps we fall in love with the perfect person. But there is still something missing; something that is neither composed of thoughts or emotions. Just a feeling, that is so overwhelming that many commit suicide out of a sort of desperation for an escape, an alternate reality of a utopia. That’s why there is no true happiness in this material or physical happiness. Because the Irony of it all, is that what is real, can never be explored. It can only be felt. The real, is the perception of ego. That ego, is what is the falsehood. The fake identity that we create for ourselves, that leads to power struggles, and leads to a fall. The peace we need is all around us. We just need to open our mind to it. The Irony of it all…the falsehood is within us, the truth, is without us.

Frayed Strings.

A thread of my existence,

Knotted to another,

A barrier that stands;

Holds me back,

These threads cannot be twined together,

Held, and strengthened.

They are frayed ends,

Clinging on to each other,

But not together.

The knots will unloose,

And separate.

I know this;

That’s why its falling apart,

That’s why its dying.

Diminishing

The fire burns, swallowing this wood,
Then the embers extinguish.
And even though it ends,
Its purpose is fulfilled;
Unlike me.

The paths I have seen,
The end I know,
But I feel in myself,
A loneliness.
An absence.

My feet are leaden,
I am dragging on,
I need an escape,
An abyss to sink in.

I walk a lonely path,
So far away from a home,
I feel a constriction,
All around me towers,
My rank is insignificant,
Everything draws life from me,
And I am dying.

I am a drop to the ocean;
The petal to a rose,
The thread of a string,
The atom of a cosmos.
I am diminishing.
After all, I need you.

Solitude

I sit alone, this cell,

The four walls, protecting,

Away from this cruelty,

Away from this madness,

Far from the fraudulent laugh,

Far away.

The light pours into the room;

The darkness, is driven away,

The warmth is fading,

The chill settles down.

Everything,

So forlorn,

So hostile,

So untrue.

Rain pours down;

The warmth returns,

Just dissipate,

Dissolve,

Let me fade.

My existence is a myth,

My choices are a myth,

The promises are a myth;

Or am I a forgotten sand;

The memories etched,

like footprints washed away;

by the wind of trouble.

Who am I?

Love is like a river;
It always surrounds us;
We only need to let it in.