A wish

I
Want to
Write beautiful words
Like the rest of
you do, but the pain
is a little too
intense for my
words to
bear

Stray thoughts (1)

The night is wild. In it, aspirations bubble about in my mind, teasing me. The excitement of everything that can come to pass is a double edged sword. On one side, it is my inspiration. Thoughts of honing my linguistic mastery and speaking in other languages with ease. It stimulates. It stimulates my mind. Being able to communicate and understand on another level to another degree with other individuals would be a godsend. We all have the potential. Nothing’s stopping me from speaking Japanese and French except for the idea that I don’t have enough time. In the same way time hinders my tongue, it also hinders my fingers. I’ve begun the steps to a greater mastery of instruments, but like most, I stopped the progression. Of course, there was no real reason. One day, I didn’t take a step forward. Just as easy as it is to go step by step, I let the hours pass day by day while my body stood at a stand-still. Skills left at mediocre; skillful enough to woo once, but woe am I when I’m found to be a poser instead of the muse. It is this side of the sword that cuts me. The reality of things, and the submission I give to the steadfast desire of comfort in the unchanging. When I think deeply upon the matter, I realize I just want to do great things and leave some sort of an impact on the world, but that’s most people. For dreams to become memories to reminisce upon, I must find my own words and the will to carve out my own path down roads with destinations I have no idea about.

I exist

That the substance from which I’m created, aspirations fallen from the stars,
is derived of only my own desire,
Is proof that I exist

That I’m seen as more than a hunk of autonomous flesh,
labeled with an arbitrary name, engaging in meaningless interaction,
Is proof that I exist

That the essence of my soul, true and in it’s entirety,
can be found bounded to the souls of those that I have touched,
Is proof that I exist.

This is what it is

No one ever really sees the sun for what it is:
A ticking time bomb suspended in space,
Awaiting the moment it loses the will to go on,
Imploding, destroying first itself, and then
Exploding; destroying every bit of evidence that something as insignificant as you or I ever existed.

No one ever sees the moon for what it really is:
A hollow shell; the remnants of pale, rough terrains that, somehow,
Managed to survive a collision with Earth.
Shining only by the grace of the Sun,
Held loosely in place by the tolerance of this planet:

Earth. No one ever sees it for what is really is:
A reality marble comprised of elements, dreams, and chance.
Denizens we are, but our existence is nothing but a sham.
A candle in the dark, fighting the wind in hopes of not being extinguished…

No one ever sees life for what it is:
A brief moment of experience we were cursed with;
Dozens of years formed from emotions and the constant fear of the inevitable…
No one ever wants to face the truth,
But someday that’s all that will remain

And no one will be there to see it for what it is.

 

Summer’s upon us

It’s almost summer. Not exactly my favorite season, but it’s the time of year where academia is often set aside in favor of making memories. A precious time that I think we should all spend heeding to the natural process of a typical school calendar. The weather is nicer, nature is in full bloom; there really isn’t anything bad about the summer– save for the excessive heat, the fact that it’s not spring, etc.

But, that’s beside the point. School has been an excuse for me to not do a great deal of things that I’ve a passion for. Writing, for one, has been on a hiatus since last winter. Work, combined with school and the many changes in life that occur around this point in a person’s life, often kept me pretty busy. Whenever I did have time to write, I was either depressed or focused on indulging in some sort of time-wasting activity in exchange for instant gratification. And if any of the previous conditions mentioned happened to be false? Well, for those moments, I don’t really regret the time of writing I lost. I’ve made more friends and acquaintances to become a part of my life narrative. I’ve spent time developing as a person through the diversity of opinions. I’ve spent time sulking, but I’ve also spent time being picked back up by loose words of inspiration others tossed about, unbeknownst to them. I’ve been inspired by a collaboration of moments that I have experienced in the last year. Obviously, we all change, but I’ve seen the changes directly affect some of my writing.

Now that I’m a little older and have a job and some money under my belt, I have less excuses to not do the things that I am passionate about, I’ve no excuse to let words and moments slip by, lost in the trickle of time. I’ve no excuse to let my goals be restricted to the tick and tock of the clock, and I’ll be damned if I let a few of my fears stop me from experiencing the world.

But, I really just wanted to write something at this very moment because I have the chance to do so. Often, I realize, I’ve had the chance to do so many things. Every day I waste previous minutes that could be spent being productive and splashing my mental ink; the task that is desired isn’t always the one that I should be dwelling on, but I’d be a fool to not acknowledge that I’ve let the idea of the future keep me from making it happen right here and right now.

It’s good to be back on the pages.

Until next time.