What Dreams May Come
He pieced together a world without creativity. Upon his senses arose the nerves with legs and direction.
His body fumbling into a place too bright for his eyes to see.
His head exploding with pain but no mind in his feet.
A distracting thought: Is life, removing all notion of knowledge and progress, meaningful, should we feel nothing in our dreams, in our death, in our peace… We scare to be numb.. beyond recollection of fear.
Beyond the smiles your face screamed to others, ‘I do want to be here’
Belief is a comfort not all of us know
They’ll find loop holes, disgracing facts, that they will never show
You’ll only be whole when you give up fact
And replace it with will that your mind can act.
My heaven does not exist yet, my dreams aren’t at peace
But I’m not willing to give up, I’m not willing to leave
If my mind can “kill” me, then it can set me free
So, I will love it, and care for it until it learns to love me.
Don’t ever tell someone that they think too much just because you hurt yourself.
When it comes that pivotal moment when they’ve practiced contemplation.
They’ll know better, because they gave it attention
They were there…
Make sure your wisdom isn’t some procedure that could even possibly hold someone back.
Before you give it, suppress your own agony, so that you’re not on the attack.