Is it even merely a reflection, my life? For quite a piece of time, I’ve just sat idly and watched the same scenery. But, perhaps instead of waiting for a change, maybe I should try and enjoy, rather – embrace the “norm.” Even still, I’d like to experience something new. Although all that I go through is unique to me, life just inevitably seems dry. Maybe if I meet the person I’ve sought for all of these lifetimes, the black void inside of me may become filled.
I do not know for absolute certain. I ask myself, “how long am I going to wait,” but my lack of understood patience keeps me stranded inside of a vicious cycle. One, which no matter how much I try to change, becomes a great test from the Universe. Do I have to fulfill a specific destiny, where I walk a path to get where I must be – where my responsibilities lie, or do I create my own future with the impressions of chalk on a board? Have I been granted the ability to carve out my own trail instead of wandering aimlessly, waiting for the most subtle of variation?
I cannot keep calm and respond in accordance. My temper spirals out of me in reaction to the vile negativities of where my physical resides. But this collection of energies, this EARTH PLANE of ours, a unit of our multi-verse, my humble home – it strains me so. There are so many conflicted visions and ideals; it seems that destruction by the wealthy and wicked is upon the misguided mind of influence. If I, with my individuality, cannot breathe for myself, then why – WHY was a brain bestowed beneath the fortress of my skull?
I am not a Sheppard to the sheep, but if I was meant to be, would it be revealed to me? I can barely keep pace with the flowing ideas concocted by my hasty fingers. I type to a means where I can express these incomprehensible feelings of mine, but is it for my well-being in due time? Should I even ask questions in rhyme?
Would they confuse my subconscious mind into seeking what I do not even consciously recall expressing? Does my seated soul understand my needless desires? Why would I be given the option to question with responsive skepticisms of dissonance? Perhaps it’s even more just for me to understand, so I ask and then fulfill my tasks – whatever they may manifest themselves as.
My mind, our minds. Me, we. We all tie in together as an intertwined patchwork of anomalies, seamlessly stuck inside of purgatorial flames with feeble hopes of escape. We’re all animals inside of a cage either way. So what’s the point of trying if we’re just killing for fulfillment and then are reminded by our Karmas , which retort our malicious deeds, that there is vision of a fruitful future? I ask, then again, I wait.