A Train of Thoughts Races Forward
The poetic experiences of existence.
The poetic experiences of existence.
When I look into a mirror, I sense it.
It reflects into my eyes, but I can’t see.
Those rays of light that sweep into my soul.
I can put emotions into words, but they fail me.
The serenity of silence, broken by the bells of tinnitus, forever eludes me.
It haunts my dreams and shatters peace.
Does anyone read this?
I am tired of white screens with black serif lines.
Where is the color?
A palette of red, blue, and yellow turns cold and empty.
Nothing stings more than unclapped, uncommented, unboosted, low read percentage, emotionally charged articles.
Place your soul here.
I’m told that two hundred claps per hail Mary is the going rate.
Guess your life story isn’t unique or different after all.
It’s funny how we manipulate atoms but can’t manipulate our feelings.
Forty years on and forty more to give, I’ll hear it — the last sound.
Everyone hears it, even if you’re deaf.
Everyone sees it, even if you’re blind.
You can’t describe it afterward.
When I look into a mirror at the end, I’ll see it.
It reflects into my soul, I’ll feel it.
Those rays of light sweep into everything around me.
A sunrise, a tree waving in the breeze, a bird call.
That is how you’ll know I’m there.
God has nothing to do with this, but it might be there, too.
We have form only because we did not.
Formless, we became.
Formed, we evaporate.
Can I truly understand this?
No body or mind, only the radiance.
I return to the center of all things.
To expand upon this is to imagine the nothing.
If you stare into it, you’ll go mad.
If you stare away from it, you’ll lose all sense of direction.
Only the fool knows for sure.
The wise man knows much, but the fool is indescribable.
Who is more radiant?
Our energies produce ripples through time and space.
We can’t know for sure if the butterfly caused the hurricane.
I only know that both occurred and one before the other.
I stay awake at night and wonder about what’s happening at that moment.
War, love, murder, sex, death, birth.
The cycle we can’t avoid but attempt to do so regardless.
When I look into a mirror, I see myself.
It reflects into my eyes, but I feel inside.
Those rays of light radiate outward into others.
They feel your presence but won’t know your name.
To live is to exist, and to exist is to impact the world.
The world is small, yet more extensive than you can possibly imagine.
A poem is never long enough, and a thought is never completed.
Flashes of brilliance soiled by words and phrases.
There is no time like the present to precisely present your presence.
I want to be a student forever yet earn the respect of a master.
The ego, vanity, the devil’s favorite sin.
To combat that which is you is to battle your shadow — you will lose.
How do I try without trying?
How do I care without caring?
How can I provide for a family without providing for myself?
Does anyone deserve anything they accept so willingly?
Does sharing contradict the peaceful tranquility of silence?
Does this computer bring fame or famine? Loss or fulfillment?
How can all things be true, yet anything be false?
Words are vibrations of atoms caused by strings in a body.
Since sound is measurable by instruments, words are as real as rays of light.
Energy is energy is energy is energy.
Whether by wave or particle, action or inaction.
Movement and stillness bring energy into the universe that will never be destroyed — only change form and delivery method.
Art can never be done.
No one is alone.
Nobody tries.
No one dies.
Nothing.
None.
When I look into a mirror, I’m there.
I reflect into my eyes, and I see.
Those rays of light blind me.
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