Certain speculation lead me to believe that there was no such thing as free. In a world that comes distinctively to every individual, it’s always hard to see eye to eye. I grew up on the edge of the middle class, never hungry, but always starving for more. I find that it is our own perspective that sets the stage of our own happiness. What feels to me like starvation is probably the equivalent of someone else’s satisfaction. I know enough however to always be grateful for everything I’ve ever had. I know to not take for granted the hard work of a mans labor. I know to always have compassion for those who go to bed at night without a roof over their head. I learned through the years how greedy we can become. Seeing on repeat the way that those who have their hands full are more than often unable to muster an inch of remorse for how it might feel to live without having anything. The idea of having more, or less being the grounds in which we live just seems dehumanizing in too many ways.. And though wealth seems to always win the race, in the end, it’s all too corrupt to leave room for any other outcome. I find that true wealth is inequivalent to true happiness, and that true happiness is far more fulfilling, and far more worthwhile than any wealth could ever be. How easily our reality is blinded when our world is filled by the fiction, and illusion of unnecessary nonsense. How easily we lose sight of what we truly need when we are lost in the glimmer of having anything we could ever want. One mans worth should never be measured by the sum of his profits, nor the emptiness of his pockets.. but in the end I guess that’s just too much to ask.

There is this part of me that yearns for the magic and wonder in life,

The parts almost eveyone seems to dismiss and avoid,

But as short as life is,

I don't want to spend it living by logic and reason,

Or by everything science says,

I want to spend it living under the stars,

Listening to my heart,

and singing all the while

#poetry #philosophy #life

Hues of the most beautiful and clear water have crept, leapt, fallen, trickled and streamed from my eyes. A translucent liquid blue comes up from the deepest coolest spring where peace and resolve lie. It gives the turquoise to me when I need to see that I can survive and that I will be washed clean of whatever pain needed to be washed away. This chunky natural stone’s color also brings with it happy tears. The ones of life that are uplifting and blissful. When turquoise shows itself again for those moments it is also a bath of sorts. It is just like a child in the tub with bubbles and toys surrounded and buoyed by the water.

Monster! Monster! Why are you there?

Under my bed, with your claws and your hair.

You fill me with so much dread

Every time I go to my bed.

I hear your claws scrape on the floor

As I race to my bed from the door.

Your growling and snarling keep me awake

Until sleep overcomes my frightened shakes.

I am told that you’re not real

But that is not what I feel.

I have proof that you exist

But adults can’t see through your magical mist.

The fear you cause must come to a stop

But I know I can’t call a cop

So to bring you to your grisly end

I’ve made the monster in my closet my best friend.

Ok so I’m in the works of planning out a novel. It takes place in a fantasy world but all the protagonists are from earth as well as the antagonist.

I’m thinking of making a second book (so it’ll be like a two book series) but the second book would be like a prequel explaining how the antagonist got to that world (which is actually quite interesting.) what do you guys think I should do? Write that second book or nah? It’s not really necessary, but it’s interesting and explains certain stuff.