when and
where do you begin to be?
we count
the weeks, then months, then years
but it
started way before in secret, in thought
two cells
collided and before you know it
a new heart started beating
how do you
measure up your life?
in years?
in months? in weeks?
we all live
in the same now, but our realities
are so very
different, living through days
and taking tomorrows for granted
everything
you feel now you carry into the future
when it can
feel like it just happened, sower of time we are
reliving
the past as if it's present
carrying
the load for years before you start asking
whose is it?
our stories
are our, we are the writers
we don't
need anyone to tell us who to be
yet we feel
burdened to be what others say
we should
be, although most people listen
just to reply
how can we
feel separated from nature?
we may feel
like we don't belong here
our
instincts shut, our senses dulled
feeling the
hollowness inside
wanting our lives to have
meaning
born into
the system, we learn and we adapt
so eager to
grow up, we forget how to paint and play
we are just
like the air, fire, water, earth IS
not separate,
but one,
for we are nature
why do we
close ourselves inside?
attach to
things that keep us forever occupied
we have no
time for ourselves
we all know
something needs to be done,
but we're so comfortable in our
glitter
when do we
allow our lungs just to breathe fully?
we lost
connection to everything that actually matters
burning the
ground underneath as we go
are our
lives but shadows,
a mere reflection of an echo
who are we,
roaming these wastelands?
a shooting
star in the earths existence?
the
emotions we feel are vast to us
the
journeys we make are our own
who are we on the inside?
- the whole universe?
maybe it's enough
to know
who we are not
*
I've come to a point in my life, where I don't usually write, but when I do, it pours and I can't stop. I hope it makes sense.
