"When your love of life can come from a simple flower, you can be the rock your loved ones need."
We sit there, talking, she and I.
Only interested in keeping the conversation going - heaven forbid there be a pause...
She says something - followed by my pretendedly interested response.
I say something - and she politely laughs.
Neither of us talking about the things that really matter:
Our deepest secrets, our hidden pain, or what brings us true joy...
There we are: completely blind to how superficial this conversation really is.
The misery of your departure haunts me; the pain of your not coming anymore pains me. On the top of it- the viciousness of the generation; what do I do? Staying awake, looking all night; hoping to catch a glimpse of you- but there is no 'YOU.' I don't receive any news regarding you.
Many memories came, and went by; but this time, you need to come. Do not bring the intention of leaving me again; just bring yourself. When others go through what I have gone, they will feel my pain. There is no sunshine without you; no rain without you. If you wanna know what is it like to live without a heart, ask me. There will be a way that leads to me - follow it forever; listen to what it wants to say. Bring the news to me, that you are coming, my love. Please.
A lot of online dating is close to free-prostitution - all the person wants is free sex and they have little or no interest in getting to know the other person. Culture needs fixing. We all need soul mates and partners who stand by us no matter what - all this "fast culture" - where did it get us?
Added to that, the real intention of a person must be spoken of for achieving true consent, otherwise it is a form of rape with lies and manipulations being the "drug" of choice.
The Kids- Spoken Word
We're the kids nobody knows
We're the kids nobody hears
We're the kids nobody listens too
We don't beat the same drum
We don't sound like the rest
We are not fueled by; greed, lust, and fame
We are fueled by; society's rejection, our rage, and our pain
Because we are not mindless slaves
Our lives don't conform
We are more than we seem
We are not just poor kids with a dream
We are the speakers for the kids words can't be freed
The kids like me, like you
That know the world is insane
And we are not afraid to phrase the truth even if we sound crazed
We are more than you know
We are more than you hear
We are more than you listen too
We are more than our rage
We are more than our pain
We are more than our dreams
And I promise you this is not a phase
These are the thoughts in our brains
That makes our hearts pulsate
That keeps us breathing
and fighting to stay alive
We are the kids nobody knows
We are the kids nobody hears
We are the kids nobody listens to.
The forestry department had the kind of logic that made sense to Esmai, it was all about keeping balance and providing optimal conditions for nature heal herself. It was about learning from nature too, in a sort of mutual exchange of goodness that helped her to feel a strong sense of belonging.
The first day of spring comes as the first song to newly opened ears and heart.
If one can see another human as a tramp, then it is the universal mirror telling us the condition of our own soul.
A royal crown sits upon his head like a boat stuck on a stream in one place. It's like it's entangled in the roots of his hair, like it's apart of him. In the shower, at work, in front of everyone. It's going to be there for ever and ever. But who cares? I like it that way.
His focus was scattered, so filled with nervous anticipation was he, so excited, even giddy. He couldn't hold a conversation or sit still while his thoughts danced in infinite directions. Yet he had to get through the day in one piece. He met Mairead last Tuesday at a wedding and this, he hoped, was their first date. He could picture it already - holding hands, a tingling feeling spreading throughout his entire body. He would take her for a walk through the park and count the ducks; it seemed the most natural thing in all the world. And she, his special girl.
The old scroll was like one of those multiple choice papers - with right answers, obvious distracting ideas and plenty of laughable idiocy. Yet in a similar way to physical maps, the topography of the ideology had a key. If we took love as our key, as our ideological supreme principle, then the "map" of the universe contained in the scrolls could be read. The Gods, as it turned out, had given us the key to read it all along.
