surrender
You cannot be successful if you do not serve something.
You cannot enjoy that which you fight against.
You will not be rewarded if you put yourself above others.
You will never know true love if you are guarded and unwilling.
You will incur judgement if you think yourself a master.
We are here to serve, and to work.
We all have a place that is under something greater.
It is your job to recognize that place and be honest about your role to others.
Resistance is futile.
The color of compassion
I see a tiny boy digging into his tiny pocket. He pulls out a coin which he places in the paper cup of a homeless man. This same tiny boy marches on down the street where he hears a steel drum, made out of tin cans, sending beautiful music to his tiny ears. Once again, he reaches into his tiny pocket and drops a shiny nickel on the ground next to the street musician.
The tiny boy knows he has only one copper penny left in his pocket. He saves it for tomorrow. His compassion is not tiny.
The Colour in the Glass
Her.
The best possible way to describe what I saw, the only nearly-adequate way to describe the warm tone and romanic feeling of the colour that filled my vision. It was Her. Not any woman specifically, just the collective kindness of them, their compassion and the way their eyeslids slowly fell and the way they smiled in the dark evening. It was Her. It was her little gestures of romance and her own lyrics scribbled across a page and the scratched thumbnails of future art and her poems typed hastily into the note's app and her face in the glass as she watched the world rush by in a blur as she simply lived. That was it, I decided. It was Her.
#Plexiglassfruit
Unknown as an Alien
An unknown colour appears. Bright and in-your-face like the sun. Then just as suddenly disappearing. Never to be seen again.
As if an alien from deep space casually showing up at a local park. Talking in a way that isn't even remotely familiar or barely audible. Moving in a way that doesn't make sense, but somehow works. Producing an odour that is pleasant, yet overwhelming.
How much would that transform your way of thinking? How could you go back to looking at a Rainbow? You would forever be gazing at the world's finest works of art. Only to feel empty. Knowing that something is missing.
The Older I Get
The older I get, the more time seems to disappear into years. When I talk with a friend and it feels like I just talked to them. I stop and think. Realizing that it's been 2 months.
Working at a job for 5 years doesn't seem that long. Until I remember that Highschool was only 4 years. And every day felt like an eternity. Realizing how much happened during that period in my life.
The older I get, the less each year matters. Or at the very least. Each year becomes less memorable.
Living color
There it was. The unearthly
visage,
as if it were a pulsing,
flowing tide —
as if it lived and breathed.
My eyes struggled to explain
the cosmic ray of light,
A coffee-stain upon my vision,
in ways my mind could grasp.
The image burned itself
into my retinas
so I could see it still
with every tiresome blink.
I became horribly aware
of the nature of color —
Amalgams of blinding lights
Existing at different frequencies
Being absorbed and reflected
endlessly.
What power, what exhaustion
our minds must be privy to
to process it all
so seamlessly?
What strength, then,
Must the color before me hold
To defy the human brain?
Ever so Slightly
My wrists gushed with red and the window was painted gray as it entered the night. In college, I discovered a new color. A color that changes every so slightly within me as I change. A doctor in a white coat approached me, to layout my devastating future ahead of me. My days seemed dark for a long time. Nothing specific, but definitely unwelcomed colors that never seemed to shed any light on paths I spent months looking for. Time seemed to drag on and the only comfort I find is in the colors of love. Reds and pinks seem to distract me like the fuzzy feelings of Valentine's day in elementary school when the love of your life gives you one extra piece of candy. These reds and pinks lasted like a shitty coating of deck paint that never lasted even one winter.
Clean air felt bleak, with no scent to hold my capture. The sun felt venomous, too much brightness, showing feelings I'm envious towards. I felt no comfort in the outdoors although I hear that's the best for you. My curtains stay drawn, two-layered for ultimate sun-soaking.
My bed is warm. A new quilt covers me, hand-stitched by a woman in New England, in my mom's attempt to make me feel just a little bit better. I reflect back on college, past relationships, and old friends. Happiness that seemed so far from my light, undernourished, anxious grasp. Unworthy and exhausting, the color of dread. Unhappy and time-consuming, the color of tragedy. A walking statistic forgetting the world of color that used to surround me.
Tough love advances me above unimaginable heights. "There's only so much I
can do. You need to start putting in an effort." Harsh to many, I can imagine. But that's how I was brought up. A new series arises before me of effort and fail trial and error, and insatiable hunger for growth and success.
The roads have cleared no paths and the exhausting haul up the same mountain remains tedious. But my strengths glisten throughout blue lakes, and time seems more manageable hidden in a coat of green forests and golden sunlight. Healing is a color of unimaginable concoctions, none at which the mind can comprehend. The color of healing, like a pheromone, is seemingly different from every story. A color that starts faint and grows brighter and more intriguing as time moves on. A color that creates a perception of the possibility of power and strength.
NERPHTH
When asked what is my favorite color- I will have to say: "Nerphth."
To which the person who asked me the question might think I mentioned some type of drug or just trying to pull their leg. Then to make things more peculiar after I give a response to the question, I will gaze into their eyes and begin to explain what this color is.
I ask if I can hold their hand and at the moment that our hands meet, their eyes begin to see the color of a shinin' almost blindin' color from the sun right at the break of dawn.
"Do you see what I see?"
I ask with a sparkle in my eye- my eyes are the same color, too. If you stare too long at them- you will go blind.
#NERPHTH. (c)
07/08/2021 Sat'rday.
