zoo bird


“But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.”

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head in the heavens

“The poet only desires exaltation and expansion, a world to stretch himself in. The poet only asks to get his head into the heavens. It is the logician who seeks to get the heavens into his head. And it is his head that splits.”

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hope in truth, the essential dilemma of life

I am going somewhere…

Whereabouts unknown, harmonious melodies through the mode.
Time—an obscure illusion, progression guided by the road.

Conscious of flighty impulsiveness, all comes to a head.
Memories dance around the occasion, skin glistening with dread.

Transience emanates, friction of tires and pavement wears and deteriorates.
Movement maintains, resignation arises when peace finally validates.

Until then, I am going somewhere…

Some people say that hope is better than the alternative, even if means sacrificing truth. They say that it is a way to get us to the end of our journey better than if we got there in pain and distress. If there was nothing in this world to have hope in, than false hope could possibly be a valid answer to solve this problem of living…although I am not willing to accept that. My hope is in something I would be willing to die for and even more, something I am certainly willing to live for. Although I disagree, Friedrich Nietzsche was willing to accept the hard truth over ignorance:

“Hope in reality is the worst of all evils because it prolongs the torments of man.”

on now

“Trust no Future, howe’er pleasant !

Let the dead Past bury its dead !

Act,— act in the living Present !

Heart within, and God o’erhead !”

Life is meant to be spent presently, yet we seem to be incapable of doing so. Thoughts and worries exhaust our mind and leave us too tired and preoccupied to care about the now. If the present was so easily attainable, we would just as easily take it for granted. The present will always be a short-lived breath of fresh air that consumes our moments until the next worry diverts our attention. So, as life is meant to be lived in the present, at least one, all-consuming present moment each day will suffice. Until death, this battle with time will continue, but until then—the present awaits our arrival.

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