Don’t be so heavy, drop those burdens you bear… They’re not yours to carry alone; Your humanity is your heroism- but even heroes can’t save them all. I’ll lift you lighter – some of these cannot stay. All you have to do is release them, let them go. And this time, breathe only to free yourself …
People told me, “You can’t,” for so long, that I thought I could; Eventually, like that little engine, I just knew I would. So I guess people were totally correct, there’s really nothing I can’t do when I focus my mentallect.
I have lazy ways, they go every which direction… All but the right one – their determination being there are no right ones, only predilections. Right is down, and up is left – Interconnectedness is universe as life is also death. These ways of mind may be problematic for order but I don’t follow those… …
Bees most busy at other hives are bees too busy to mind their lives.
I am not okay… …but I guess I’ve wanted to be for so long that I pretended I was. I function. And often, I’m even happy; Smiles, rare conversation – y’know…pleasantries. But when I look at my life, I realize how many of the things I own first belonged to someone else’s collection – of …
Maybe you right and I’m not who I say I am. But maybe also that’s because I’d been too busy trying to become who everyone else said I should be.
Remove the mask
and away falls the fear,
the doubt, the shame
of not being “acceptable,”
of not living beyond expectation
and custom.
Shadow and pain fade to ash.
And revealed is
authenticity, validation, color, and light;
self is shining, and it is free.
But, only in solitude –
For in society,
liberty is frowned upon;
We’re to pursue it, not possess it…
And so the mask is replaced,
self again contained.
Society smiles
and the mask does too –
but beyond it
self feels an insecure impostor.
A cat ponders,
with eyes squinted sagely,
and daintily tucked-under paw;
curled tail,
and inquisitive ears,
how Sol came to be
and also is
and just briefly wonders
why he is too.
Then he naps.
True wealth is the wealth of the soul
Poetry, story and real life. Once soldier, busnessman, grandfather and Poet.
A collective of thoughts, poetry, writing works, blurbs, and other randomosity
BUZZWEED QUIZZES
Art Studio Dumfriesshire
Kayfucius 