The light; concrete or abstract
Somehow we find ways to subtract,
Extract the heart beating inside.
Held down by a chosen destiny like the path had been set long ago.
And now when I’m looking in the eyes
Of others there’s a pestilence growing inside.
I’m just asking where does the heart reside
Now? Cast the die and take a ride
Through the bountiful gardens of decadents.
The day when it rains I wonder if it’s like a cadence or is it like an emptiness.
Are we living inside a trance?
Move by move we dance
Along to the melancholy tune.
I’m asking for a different kind of light coming from inside.
I ain’t looking for an ecclesiastical view, much less an optimistic one, just something to tell me that you feel. It feels like I’m surrounded by hollow men.
Abominations without a heart
But plenty of matches to start
A fire upon the fields of Eden.
What is this that we’ re feeding?
Ego, self pride, self-worth; neuroses plaguing the conscience and warping the outlook on life. Like a fish we took the hook for a little bait. So tell me where is the light now?
Did we snuff it out?
With a puff the candle went out.
“Have you ever just stared out into the distance? Out there is something unknown but it’s known by the wind. The howls, the cold, the birds, the whispers, the storms, the seeds, the wanderlust. If the unknown calls then surely we should heed it.” These are the words said by a stranger on his way through my village.
These words they resonate in my mind. A man traveling by himself through dangerous lands yet he remains cheerful. I wonder if I could do the same. The stagnant state of this village leaves a pungent taste in my mouth. No news from the outside reaches here and the villagers find solace in the isolation. Do I? Lately the man’s words romance my thirst for something new.
I walk to the edge of town where I met the man. The place is unusual for most travelers. A ravine the village elder calls the entrance to the Burrow of Despair. Tales speak of men losing their minds in the ravine and finding a door hidden beneath thorns. Neither does the door exist or the thorns but the hallucination is much more vivid than reality. One man rescued from the ravine was unable to function at all.
The older villagers say he never escaped the ravine. I never met him nor do I wish to find truth in such a tragedy. Out of mercy or perhaps selfishness they put him to rest. We warned the traveler about these states of altered reality but he pressed on. I wonder how. His footsteps, the only pair on the soil, show a leisurely stroll.
“What was it? If I could ask about his confidence in traveling. Or return the book he dropped right here.” I ramble on.
I traced the cover with my hand. A skillful engraving meets my fingertips and I feel warmth radiating from it. Should I read the book? He may never return. Or I could show it to the elder because all those old people in the Council have strict rules on outside knowledge. No I can’t let them get rid of the book. I place the book back in my pocket and head back to my house.
The hardest bark and thinnest blade of grass;
Reality and dreams – caught on the shoals
Of a sea where the known and unknown
Wage war. A pendulum swinging back and fro.
Caught in the tides to which we never let go
And we become slaves to. We who own
The world actually own nothing. Fools,
Proving themselves with wealth and brass.
A darkness grows from this discrepancy.
These deeds corrupt the primal forces
Born ages before humanity. Destruction.
Is this a law of motion or simply karma?
The Dragacian people were not ready.
Fanatical beasts pour out at a steady,
Unnerving rate. Again, they were not ready.
Hatred it seeps into our hearts filling it black,
The day comes when the dawn will no longer break,
we forget who we are and who they are. A war begins.
We could walk away. Why don’t we? We could.
The differences between us never justify.
To take is to steal for we weren’t given this earth.
Question what you were told. They lied.
The world allows us to be here.
If we betray the kindness how can we say it’s unfair?
Let’s walk away. The march forward we can’t share.
They say disregard those that are weird and to accept those that are different. When their charade is exposed the journey begins. We’re sailing into a jungle where a bright Sun burns anyone outside. Most will steer away from this land of tribulation and seek refuge in the shade, but I can’t anymore. The Sun burns away the veil. . .
Fear keeping them from communicating
As exhaust fumes polluting the air between.
A perpetuating system like the withering
Of a flower. The masses are gathering.
Words lost in all the frequencies unseen.
Does anyone see bleeding hearts desiccating?
Yeah, I’m listening and seeing the truth.
My hands sift through their tears like sand
And I fall to a humbler state.
“Why? Why do we all turn
On others when life gets tough?
They need some love when it’s rough.
Can we change? Or do we burn?”
I’m unready for that cremation.
The sand cannot just be ashes
Of dreams and lives now lost.
Nothing is wrong about dreaming, living, being you;
It isn’t right to dramatize struggles when others bleed.
We have to be better. I’ll be there and I’ll offer my hand
When someone hurts because life can be so cruel.
The serene nature by which the night air accustoms itself to my lungs. Could it be any more calming? A cycle of gravity’s depression upon the cavity of space this solar system inhabits creates a series of events cultivating in this single, unique moment. But my mind spoils this moment with thoughts of others who never appreciate the larger scheme at play. I shiver beneath the pale moon wishing I could breathe new life into those hollow men.
Have they lost their way? Honestly, it’s not my place to weigh hearts against a feather. I simply want to show everyone the beautiful yet complex universe we live in. Bettering the human race doesn’t need to equate to better wages, better living conditions, or any better version of a material object. We need a reawakening of the heart, the thing that makes us human. And that is what I write for instead of chasing success. I’m mortal and I won’t waste my time on building a figurative castle because all of this is made of sand. . .it’s meant to be swept away.
Although everything is temporary, we can all take something from what we’ve made. What matters though? Seeing that things won’t last shows brevity that can shatter any world view and make light out of life’s many quarrels. If we task ourselves with the continuation of life and understanding we can create an even better future than money can create. I can see a more unified humanity, less tragedies, and a greater appreciation of life.
Why aim for such a goal? It seems natural to me for one to care for others and express concerns about the toxicity within their hearts. I wouldn’t say that this desire is foolishly idealistic nor that it is arrogantly realistic. The pragmatic truth says we can do much better due to probability but forcing change only creates further problems so we should teach each other. We can be better and better others through brevity, appreciation, and relaxation.
Understand how finite everything is, appreciate what is and let it be, and allow distance between the truth and feelings.
A dagger thrust between your chest
And mine. See the light of dawn
On this horizon where dreams rest
In their forlorn cradle and coffin.
“Oh please just take away the pain, a stain of a life
Only washed away by our blood with this one knife.”
Eternity will call as we fall to our knees
One by one in procession. We’re falling
Through the skyline and I’m unafraid
Of what comes next. Hello or goodbye?
This is an evolution-revolution-devolution
To see myself fall from materialistic highs.
Traversing pass thousands of stars.
The river erases everything even scars.
Greedily holding onto this one, lonely sunset
We burn our hands. The way barred by a lack
Of dreams and a melancholy sickness. Hack
And cough up the ilk we take as our regiment.
Who knows what’s right any longer?
A masquerade that never ends despite
All of the tears behind carbon masks.
We see the headlines reading our wounds,
Self-inflicted and left to go septic.
Run in circles and scream for change
From ourselves; it’s only our fault.
When we take off the masks we’re fearful
Of everyone else. The monsters in our heads
Were born when we fell so low to the floor.
Between the burn and the fall gain humility.
Entertain the idea that we all might be wrong
In this expansive universe. Dreams so strong
They can shatter through our false reality.
If we keep heading in the same direction we will reach where we’re headed. We can hope for a miracle or forget the bad but that ain’t an answer. Face the darkest and brightest day with the same desire to see tomorrow. ~ Don’t follow those that can’t discern their heart from a crowd. Because the worst thing we can become is numb and dismissive.