I pray not for me my friend, but for you
That in everything you try, you do the best you can do
And that may come far and close for few
Despite the outcome, to yourself stay true.
I pray not for the shore, but the sands
That whenever you try, they may not slip between your hands
And that you gather some from far and distant lands
Yet when it's all said and done, you've gathered all you can
I pray for the moon my friend, not the sun
For in life that when you try, it is never done
And victories may come whether lost or won,
But for you; a star in the sky: there is always one.
I wrote this as I was sitting outside and gazing at the stars in the sky. I say gaze and not stare or look, because they don't do it justice. I'm tired of writing about things that have upset people and bring pain, I want you to be able to read this and get a shiver, to know that at times in your life, everything actually is alright. And even sometimes when I gaze at the sky and every star is hiding, I look out at the lights in the valley and I imagine that everyone is happy; because the truth is, I'd like to believe that there is good in the world, and everyone can climb into bed and what is seen and seems is not but a dream within a dream.
More so, don't just look at them, see them...imagine them to be the most fantastical thing you can ever think of, like the glittering of diamonds at the bottom of a river or the dashing tails of lightening bugs unstuck in a time of their own, unparalleled with reality. Let your mind wonder, and feel infinite. That's because the truth is we all deserve to feel how we want, and your imagination and solitude are the only place you can actually find yourself. Forget your troubles and drift away on a tide of empathy that brings you solely to where you want to be. There's an ether out there that we all belong to, and only a peaceful man can be happy with himself.
Reclaim your imagination, because it's the only true freedom in this world that we have.
Monday, 18 July 2011
History Repeats Itself
Why do people do this to themselves? Why do we insist on re-opening wounds that we're trying to stitch closed? We try to move on but every little thing reminds us and cuts a little bit deeper. Eventually it can only cut so deep before it kills us. Now I'm not saying you literally gasp for breath as your life flashes before your eyes, but I am saying it's possibly to become dead inside. I think that's why we get scared, and try to hide our feelings.
When was the last time you truly said how you felt without beating around the bushes?
All around the mulberry bush
The monkey chased the weasel.
The monkey thought 'twas all in fun.
Pop! goes the weasel.
It kind of reminds me of that nursery rhyme we use to sing, and I'm sure we've all heard it at one point or another. Yet, what sense does it make to keep chasing the weasel, and playing a monkey makes no one a winner, if you know what I mean.
It feels like I'm rambling here but I'm trying to make a point. I promise.
What I'm trying to say is that History really does repeat itself, people change, you change, and allot changes. Yet we still repeat the same old mistakes and will continue to do so. Change isn't necessarily a bad thing, but it is pretty self explanatory and it is what you allow it to be. It can appear as the nightmare in the wake of your dreams or you can try and see it as the last few feet before you surface for air. Either way, it's going to have an impact, everything does. Furthermore, we're stubborn creatures, (despite claims we are the most intelligent), we're hellbent and heaven bound on hurting ourselves and bringing up things from the past, not letting go when the rope is about to snap. We repeat our mistakes and eventually we learn, just it's never soon enough. We put salt in our own wounds.
I don't know how many people have read this, and I don't know how many will, but even if my posts can make an impact in at least one person's life then I know I've accomplished what I came here to do.
All I can tell you for now, is that we need to keep our heads up high and don't give up, but be smart about it.
Try day by day to fight the future and fuck the past.
When was the last time you truly said how you felt without beating around the bushes?
All around the mulberry bush
The monkey chased the weasel.
The monkey thought 'twas all in fun.
Pop! goes the weasel.
It kind of reminds me of that nursery rhyme we use to sing, and I'm sure we've all heard it at one point or another. Yet, what sense does it make to keep chasing the weasel, and playing a monkey makes no one a winner, if you know what I mean.
It feels like I'm rambling here but I'm trying to make a point. I promise.
What I'm trying to say is that History really does repeat itself, people change, you change, and allot changes. Yet we still repeat the same old mistakes and will continue to do so. Change isn't necessarily a bad thing, but it is pretty self explanatory and it is what you allow it to be. It can appear as the nightmare in the wake of your dreams or you can try and see it as the last few feet before you surface for air. Either way, it's going to have an impact, everything does. Furthermore, we're stubborn creatures, (despite claims we are the most intelligent), we're hellbent and heaven bound on hurting ourselves and bringing up things from the past, not letting go when the rope is about to snap. We repeat our mistakes and eventually we learn, just it's never soon enough. We put salt in our own wounds.
I don't know how many people have read this, and I don't know how many will, but even if my posts can make an impact in at least one person's life then I know I've accomplished what I came here to do.
All I can tell you for now, is that we need to keep our heads up high and don't give up, but be smart about it.
Try day by day to fight the future and fuck the past.
Saturday, 16 July 2011
Aren't we all just lost?
Where, my friend, are you headed? Can you honestly tell me that you know your direction and where it's taking you? Can you honestly tell me that when all is said and done, you have taken yourself to the exact emplacement of your dreams? Can you look me straight in the face and give me the address of love? Can you jot down a note that takes me to success? Can you draw a map that leads me past failure to respect and pride? Even more so, can you take yourself there?
We're all just wandering and wondering. There's no better way to put it; the delusions of an ignorant travelor make swift bliss, because he worries not about where he's headed, just the fact that he's going somewhere and that he makes his own path. He picks up things along the way and keeps them by his side, mementos of where he's been, he looks not back or forward, but focuses on what keeps him moving, what really matters. Yet, the best part is that he's in an open field with a vast blue sky that twinkles like dreams behind closed eyes at night, and a horizon that stretches the length of eternity. It doesn't matter which direction he heads because he knows at the end of it all what he wants is not what you, or I, or your neighbor, or your local grocer, or your favorite teacher, or the woman down the street who cries herself to sleep, or her husband who drinks himself to sleep, or their child who can't stand to watch either of them. Where we go we decide, and we don't have a set path there, the fact of the matter is, that in the open field you can change direction as soon as your heart desires.
The most important thing to remember is that you feel how you want; you love until your heart stops; you take control of everything that matters, but above all that at least once in your journey you stop, and you look around and when you do that:
You should feel infinite.
We're all just wandering and wondering. There's no better way to put it; the delusions of an ignorant travelor make swift bliss, because he worries not about where he's headed, just the fact that he's going somewhere and that he makes his own path. He picks up things along the way and keeps them by his side, mementos of where he's been, he looks not back or forward, but focuses on what keeps him moving, what really matters. Yet, the best part is that he's in an open field with a vast blue sky that twinkles like dreams behind closed eyes at night, and a horizon that stretches the length of eternity. It doesn't matter which direction he heads because he knows at the end of it all what he wants is not what you, or I, or your neighbor, or your local grocer, or your favorite teacher, or the woman down the street who cries herself to sleep, or her husband who drinks himself to sleep, or their child who can't stand to watch either of them. Where we go we decide, and we don't have a set path there, the fact of the matter is, that in the open field you can change direction as soon as your heart desires.
The most important thing to remember is that you feel how you want; you love until your heart stops; you take control of everything that matters, but above all that at least once in your journey you stop, and you look around and when you do that:
You should feel infinite.
The Olive Branch
Gazing at the vibrant clouds in the ashen sky,
It is not them that move, but I,
For the breeze of Mother Nature is but a wafting breath,
Imparted from her bosom,
To move the impartial inhabitants to harbor universal wisdom.
Thus let rivalry arise between the jurors three;
Amongst which Father time sets the sands free,
Impartial to havoc of releasing ages and convicting generations,
Set loose at his own hand,
Greatly yearning for mankind to desire to understand.
Hark and Herald, an Angel arrived on sullen black wings,
To recluse man; further reprieve wrong doings,
Slowly risen with the gallantry of gilded fervor and entitlement,
Like Atlas bearing burdens on brazen back,
Sentencing humanity to acquiesce that all is not bleak and black.
It is not them that move, but I,
For the breeze of Mother Nature is but a wafting breath,
Imparted from her bosom,
To move the impartial inhabitants to harbor universal wisdom.
Thus let rivalry arise between the jurors three;
Amongst which Father time sets the sands free,
Impartial to havoc of releasing ages and convicting generations,
Set loose at his own hand,
Greatly yearning for mankind to desire to understand.
Hark and Herald, an Angel arrived on sullen black wings,
To recluse man; further reprieve wrong doings,
Slowly risen with the gallantry of gilded fervor and entitlement,
Like Atlas bearing burdens on brazen back,
Sentencing humanity to acquiesce that all is not bleak and black.
Second Chances
They're what we all hope for. We make them; break them; ruin them; pray for them; strive for them; and throw them all away in a second. Yet they still hold true like the beacon of light in the dark cave of despair. They're the chair under our feet when we tie the noose around our neck, but that's always the situation isn't it? We tie the noose ourselves, that's why we pray the chair doesn't slip.
There is a difference though, I guess not everyone, deserves a second chance, or has faith in themselves to reach out and grab it. What defines a man is his admittance on his wrong and that makes all the difference. I believe in the heart of an honest man who accepts his wrong, and I pray for the ignorant one who rejects his. However, when it comes down to it, we can't let go, and fighting for a dashed hope may make a foolish man, but a brave-hearted soul none the less. And perhaps, if we don't get a second chance, or we pass it up and cause the hurt that lasts for so long at the end of day, then the knowledge alone that you tried your best should be enough slack in the rope that you can stretch and touch the ground. At the root of things, excuses and the like never help the situation, and to be honest with yourself and the demons you're fighting are the breeze of self-respect that cools the heat.
When it all comes down to it, the second chance isn't the most important thing, it's being true to yourself. A man who lies to himself, can never be honest to the world.
There is a difference though, I guess not everyone, deserves a second chance, or has faith in themselves to reach out and grab it. What defines a man is his admittance on his wrong and that makes all the difference. I believe in the heart of an honest man who accepts his wrong, and I pray for the ignorant one who rejects his. However, when it comes down to it, we can't let go, and fighting for a dashed hope may make a foolish man, but a brave-hearted soul none the less. And perhaps, if we don't get a second chance, or we pass it up and cause the hurt that lasts for so long at the end of day, then the knowledge alone that you tried your best should be enough slack in the rope that you can stretch and touch the ground. At the root of things, excuses and the like never help the situation, and to be honest with yourself and the demons you're fighting are the breeze of self-respect that cools the heat.
When it all comes down to it, the second chance isn't the most important thing, it's being true to yourself. A man who lies to himself, can never be honest to the world.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)