Making Connections

Compassion is a peculiar teacher
Its lessons disguised in failure and trying
Yet advocating triumph
We see ourselves in the best possible light
Until our power cuts out
When we are powerless is when we learn to fight for others
If we decide to heed the message of struggle
It is to be above your own soul by silencing its desires
And only tending to its needs
Enabling it to see through its egocentric nature and find the core
The tears of humanity can fill oceans in their abundance
Where some drown and others sail, all once gazing upon an eternal horizon
We can start a revolution or better the one that has already begun
Everything is revolving just like everything is one
Circular and spherical is our life force
As we breathe corruption into it
As we inhale so-called progress, we exhale our own demise
I am sick of this phantom respiration
When will we show our form?
Compassion...
I had to dance with my ego to cripple it.

Her own brand of Freedom

Ink was pierced into her as she tattooed poetry on her veins
They told stories of blood loss
Mind envied heart for its freedom
As the intellect could never grow past reason

They told her her reasons were below theirs
And so she spilt ink of the floor and walked barefoot on it
So they could see the footsteps of her thinking
From mind to body the ink spilt
And all watched on as passion painted the floor a red liquid

Mind envied heart for its freedom
As the intellect could never grow past reason
Foot envied tongue for its speaking
And tongue envied eyes for its seeing

She being young could always tell
That cynicism was more a crutch than an excuse
Beauty came and went like change
Growing deeper and leaving evidence of life
Like wrinkles in space and time
But thoughts resisted aging to the body’s rhythm
They follow either mind or heart

The Fear of Failure

There are times when I don’t feel like writing. I have to understand these moments. I long to become who I’ve always wanted for myself—the best version of myself, but I feel a hindrance born from fear. Fear has become a crippling yet necessary emotion. It has taught me what I love and hate, but mostly what I love. We often fear the things we love (e.g. God, poetry, potential, the soul etc.). Therefore, I do not ever want to be fearless because the absence of fear mirrors the absence of passion and purpose. I fear poetry. Perhaps that’s why I am writing a letter/note instead. I fear poetry because it is my risk. Everyone has at least one chance at pursuing a potential risk that can change the course of their entire life and lead to immense happiness and self-fulfillment. Failure—a word I’ve been well acquainted with as of late—has become a great fear in my life, yet I have done everything to run into it. Perhaps my keeping in touch with failure has been therapeutic in ways in the sense that it has allowed me to purge and face my fear. The fear of failure has diminished more with each failure I have endured and survived. Falling doesn’t seem so scary any more...it is no longer a threat or obstacle, rather a prerequisite. I have to fall in order to get to know the ground and, thus, be able to stand firmly on it.