Thursday, June 2, 2022

Directionless - Journal 6/2/2022

 I remember pure thoughts and kind faces. 

I remember deep sadness so profound I didn't even know it was mine. 

I remember being told to dream, with such extreme borders that it forced my dreams in one specific direction. 

I remember wanting to lust freely, always finding someone just as lonely willing to look in my direction.

Strangers with the same wanting to dream being pushed and guided in the same direction.

And apparently this is where my brain is leading me today is this sense of direction, or lack thereof.

Probably because all of those years of wandering caused me to contract a literal case of wanderlust. When I am stagnant I feel half alive. Yet when I wander I feel lonely and disconnected. When I am in one state I always crave the other. When I am in one form I always pursue a different one.

Even now while I look outside of my windowpane I find myself analyzing the cracks in the paint of the window itself, instead of the clear blue sky beyond.

I constantly wish that this desire for more, that this inability to be satisfied will stop…

But then when I really think about it that desire itself is life… unguided life without direction. 

The day that ceases to exist it will be because of death. Whether my physical death of this shell, or an internal death inside of me which in all reality is ten thousand times more sad and worthy of grieving.

So may I never stop craving.

May I never be full.

May I never be satiated enough to stop feeling the pull.

Of life and lust itself

Or should I say lust of life itself.

May my life and death cause people to crave

And not just stay in one place, content to die 

In comfort, in vain

With so much life left still in their veins.

May we shake our manes and roar with pride

At the lust for life and love in each other's eyes.

May we fight in kindness and not in lies 

Because remember we will all lie in the same cold hard ground… together.

And we will all meet the Maker, together.

Maybe not at the same time, but remember time is merely a ball of twine.

Waiting to be cut.

Should we not make sure that our children will live and laugh in love 

And not shackled in a hut of hate?

May those who are shackled, learn that they have the key.

And they are open and free to wander directionlessly.


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