Letting the fight against something leave you
Can take away that things power.
An example would be if something frightens you
And your energy is spent trying to pretend
That you are not afraid
You become a near slave to that effort.
But if you allow yourself to fully feel the fear
Even though it can be unpleasant
Or discomforting
The freedom you gain
By choosing honest feeling over
Lies of pride or Image
Can lead the way to passing through
To when you are no longer afraid.
Because all feeling can pass.
Eventually.
Not die, maybe.
But their power can fade.
So if fear knocks, let it in.
So that its fury can find itself spent
All the sooner.
This too,
Stays true.
For bloodied edged
Love.
Monday, March 20, 2006
Sunday, March 5, 2006
Battle.
It is Ok.
To feel sad.
To feel used.
To feel remorse or confusion.
It isn’t something to hide from or be shameful of.
That is just life.
And as cliché as it seems,
Shit does Happen.
It is Ok.
Missing someone and knowing you shouldn’t.
Finding the hazy knowledge.
If you feel wronged by another.
By a past love.
You can look deeper.
See your own hand included in the cause.
Sort of lets you feel.
That you nudge your own fate.
More often that you think.
And whether you admit it or not.
Whether you wish to act upon it or not.
Love is love and our hearts don’t care.
They just keep on dancing.
Feeling those bone shaking beats.
And making you want to Sway.
So what do you do?
You Fucking Live!
You think and dream.
Breathe and seek.
And find that fun that is looking so hard for you.
Because we all have crap we have to carry.
And it is normal.
It is OK.
To feel sad.
To feel used.
To feel remorse or confusion.
It isn’t something to hide from or be shameful of.
That is just life.
And as cliché as it seems,
Shit does Happen.
It is Ok.
Missing someone and knowing you shouldn’t.
Finding the hazy knowledge.
If you feel wronged by another.
By a past love.
You can look deeper.
See your own hand included in the cause.
Sort of lets you feel.
That you nudge your own fate.
More often that you think.
And whether you admit it or not.
Whether you wish to act upon it or not.
Love is love and our hearts don’t care.
They just keep on dancing.
Feeling those bone shaking beats.
And making you want to Sway.
So what do you do?
You Fucking Live!
You think and dream.
Breathe and seek.
And find that fun that is looking so hard for you.
Because we all have crap we have to carry.
And it is normal.
It is OK.
Sunday, February 19, 2006
Ode to Joy
That part always gets me.
It is the movie Immortal Beloved.
The last part, with symphony number nine.
And the magic the music holds.
The joy of life.
As seen by a young boy, and the old man he became.
The way life is good.
And we are all part of this big old universe.
The simplicity and grandness.
Both awesomely dwarfing and so reassuring.
That life is temporary and passing.
The young get old and the old die.
But it is the ride that matters, not so much the end.
The Joy of this ride we call life.
The pains we feel, large and small, are the price of the ticket.
And the nothingness is not to be feared.
It is the way we are part of everything.
When I say we don’t really matter,
I mean that we cannot matter more,
As we are part of it all.
And it, we, all, matters only as much as it does.
The joy flows. From love and smiles.
It is the goal.
Making disappointment and heartbreak all right.
The final ending for us is the same.
The amazing unknown.
It is the movie Immortal Beloved.
The last part, with symphony number nine.
And the magic the music holds.
The joy of life.
As seen by a young boy, and the old man he became.
The way life is good.
And we are all part of this big old universe.
The simplicity and grandness.
Both awesomely dwarfing and so reassuring.
That life is temporary and passing.
The young get old and the old die.
But it is the ride that matters, not so much the end.
The Joy of this ride we call life.
The pains we feel, large and small, are the price of the ticket.
And the nothingness is not to be feared.
It is the way we are part of everything.
When I say we don’t really matter,
I mean that we cannot matter more,
As we are part of it all.
And it, we, all, matters only as much as it does.
The joy flows. From love and smiles.
It is the goal.
Making disappointment and heartbreak all right.
The final ending for us is the same.
The amazing unknown.
Brood
Sweet moments of lust can fall from thoughts.
Memories of bodies, moving together.
With purpose.
If the imagination is full of fire,
Lovers never part.
They just all fade into one.
Together.
What a wonderful madness it must be,
To live within imagination.
The rest of the fools.
Flesh hungry and alone.
Trying to know the right path.
As if we can choose.
I tried.
A few times.
Each time really thinking it was the right way.
But it has again lead to the nothingness.
Safe, easy nothing.
It would be sad, I guess, if it hurt.
But the worst of it is boredom.
Which doesn’t leave marks.
And is very treatable.
I wish I cared.
More.
Then maybe I would fight.
For something.
But, hey!
I already have the Nothing.
Memories of bodies, moving together.
With purpose.
If the imagination is full of fire,
Lovers never part.
They just all fade into one.
Together.
What a wonderful madness it must be,
To live within imagination.
The rest of the fools.
Flesh hungry and alone.
Trying to know the right path.
As if we can choose.
I tried.
A few times.
Each time really thinking it was the right way.
But it has again lead to the nothingness.
Safe, easy nothing.
It would be sad, I guess, if it hurt.
But the worst of it is boredom.
Which doesn’t leave marks.
And is very treatable.
I wish I cared.
More.
Then maybe I would fight.
For something.
But, hey!
I already have the Nothing.
