given the date and time, the energies of mercury dancing with saturn as pluto watches.
i speak like water, and the thoughts run everywhere not following the previous riverbeds, trying to find another way- there has to be another way.
my heart belongs with mercury even as the moon shines silver under the sun who playfully opens a few flowers, retreating behind clouds once the bloom fades and burns.
my soul is a landscape traversed by the dark, who tramples crops just to say, “you can grow it all again” but saturn, how and why? yet pluto laughs.
the maiden provided light on my horizon and her smile birthed mine. all my life i would try to reach her as the horizon line swiftly covers another timeline.
i am the mosaic of two lives hoping to birth a third, maybe the last one.
fall into the rivers and drown awake in a void that sings “life is grand, it continues on” sleeping in the midst of births fingers aren’t hands, hands don’t reach sleeping in the mists and fog of repose “life is grand, it continues on” you awake and scream, simmers to a cry someone holds you gently falling slowly, slowly forgetting the drowning
attraction is beauty by sight. what am i attracted to? what do i find visually beautiful? smooth surfaces, shiny and glowy things illuminated from the inside the way the light hits the way the light drapes itself over someone the shadows that linger slightly, shadows that enhances the light. cracks. breaks. shattered in stasis static shattering, frozen in the moment as it continues to tear. allowing the light to fracture, the colors magnifying and blending into new ones causing a new rainbow to be birthed into existence. the liquid of words that penetrate and fill, causing the soft airy things to float to the surface. the world shakes us and we become a snow globe. a flurry of moments and memories, thousands upon thousands of snowflakes, each with its own unique fingerprint floating around us, our tectonic plates rattling against each other unearthing a new part, a new appendage we can’t -as it emerges and finds its place- cannot live without. our little self, a beautiful tapestry, a menagerie, a mosaic. below the surface of our skin, if someone is versed in real beauty, will be able to see all. beauty has nothing to do with what renders men and women caricatures of a human being. beauty is deeply embedded within ourselves. it reaches out for a hand that tries to reach further in.
“I deserve to
be loved!”, we exclaim. “I don’t deserve to be treated like
this”, we rightfully argue.
People like to
talk about the lesson in pain, how we can learn from the failure of not being
loved how we think we should.
But we don’t
listen. We sulk, cry, and throw tantrums. In all honesty, you can count
yourself as a normal, emotionally healthy human being until someone breaks your
heart- you then become monstrous.
We never really
take time to ask ourselves the real questions because we feel time runs out too
fast, you gotta live in the now! So go for it! run and crash into mountains
trying to get right through, fall off every hill, bruise, get dirty and live!
And yet, when fate
decides, “enough child” it ties your arms and legs and you gotta sit
with all the repercussions of your behavior. Now you see the bruises, now you
feel the pain- how’d that happen?
The true wisdom of
life is this: you have to become so aware of yourself and your environment, so
you know exactly who you are and what grounds you walk on. Everything else is
just interpretations.
You can’t just
throw yourself like garbage at someone and hope for the best. You can’t expect
to be loved if you don’t know what that means. You can’t believe everyone’s
perception of you and act according to that view and expect you’ll be okay in
the long run.
We only hurt
because it signals that what we believed isn’t true. Deception is a puzzle we
keep trying to figure out in each other’s eyes. But liars are just people who
don’t like being aware of themselves and like to deceive because it feels
better than trying to just be. And why do we want to be like that? Why would we
want to love someone like that?
Wisdom, remember,
is awareness.
Every lie will be detected, no one can hide, and some people like to hurt others and feel pain themselves- they realized that just being brings nothing of value to them. So, they break their own hearts and other’s hearts just for the fun it brings, it changes their lives, calamity is a chance for them to truly live in it.
“But I deserve
to be loved”, then learn to love the self, “but I love myself, I want
someone to love me”, then let yourself be loved, “no, not that one,
or that one, no not thatone“
You need to
understand what love is, not what it should look like. We’ve been duped by fairytales,
and we’ve been lied to since we took our first step in this world.
What is love
though?
It is a commitment
to care for another, to extend the inner compassion outwards.
Romantic love?
A reconciliation
of two hearts in discord, reaching a common ground to repair and grow the
selves, not just separately but together.
We’re seduced by words and promises too easily and never realize anyone can make themselves an adept snake charmer.
But real love
needs you to be so aware of yourself none of that will sway you. You will
detect the lies, the deceit.
Two souls destined
to intertwine will eventually find each other. But you can’t open that pathway,
you can’t let the energetic soul tie make their way towards you if you’re too
busy closing that pathway by entertaining and being entertained by the clownish
attempts of snake charmers.
Everyone deserves love. The real question is: Will you be able to recognize it when it makes its way towards you?
The whole of our human life depends on its success as a story so it can be an inspirational map so others can follow.
That’s too much
pressure.
You’re still
alive? Success. You’re still going? Success.
The material needs
of a human being is only necessary given the societal circumstances. We don’t
need so much crap.
You got food?
shelter? some clothes you can wear? a beautiful success story.
Prestige is for
the leeches. Trophies exist to satisfy the poorly constructed ego. The rich are
a plague.
So, what is
defeat? What is complete failure?
We shame the poor
and wince at the thought of ruin. Humiliation for the human being is not having
enough to show the world they made it, that they’re truly successful, look at
me, look at all my things!
Being humbled
brings us shame and so we hurry up to try to cover this humiliation. We blame
ourselves for not doing enough and we shame others for not doing enough. But
what is enough?
We are programmed
to want more so when we see someone who has less but is still happy it causes
confusion. Shouldn’t they want more? bigger? better? Why aren’t they defeated by
their material lack, aren’t they ashamed of this failure?
Why do some of us feel humiliated when we are asked, “why don’t you want more?”
To be humiliated for material lack highlights how programmed we’ve become, we don’t even ask why do we need so much. Not just the necessary, which is even something that’s becoming more expensive by the day, but an excess that is supposed to signal some kind of earned success.
We always have
enough, that’s the honest truth and that’s something to be admired, to be awed
at, not just feel gratitude, but awe.
Humility in the
hands of the rich is a crime. Humility in the hands of fate is a lesson. Two separate
things.
We’re so busy
shaming each other’s poverty while the rich hoard up the resources and destroy
communities just so they could have a little more, and a little more, some more,
a never-ending pursuit of just a little more.
True failure is not understanding your value as a living being. True defeat is letting the tides of others drown you, letting others decide for you instead of digging deep inside and finding out the true treasure, the promised eternity, the golden chalice the myths talk about- your soul.
Regardless of what
anyone says, you are successful. You’re still here, you’re still breathing,
against all odds here you are with all your might waking up to another day. What
a success, what a triumph, bravo.
Early Dew of Morning 
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