Why do we need to keep pushing, keep growing, keep building, keep hurting? When is enough really going to be, enough? This must be the reason why people reminisce about their past, or even wish to live in a century far before their own. It was a simpler time. It was easier...but was it really?
We have this tendency to ruin our own futures, no matter where we are in time. We have it in our heads that we always need to be the best, we need to dominate, need to concur. What is it exactly that needs to be concurred now?
We have roads, we have cars, we have sturdy houses, we have long distance communication and trade, we have excellent medicine..the only thing left to concur is each other. And we're clearly doing a fine job of that.
There's always something to struggle for, because there always needs to be a struggle. We cannot live without it, as conflict is what gives our fleeting lives some semblance of meaning. The word "peace" was born to describe that very sensation. It is not a goal, but instead the death of all goals, the death of motivation, the death of purpose.
When motivating the masses, people often use the word peace. Like a sword in the guise of a white rose, it speaks to our shared utopian ideologies, but subliminally, we've been activated. With that single end, all future means have been justified.
Instead of abiding by its principle and intention, we use peace as a springboard, a code word, an insensitive, a war cry. After all, that is what we humans truly want, isn't it? I mean, history would show that the bitter-sweet taste of conflict with a side of manufactured purpose, would always prevail.
We often like to say that peace will keep us united, but when has that ever been true? The Revolutionary War, The Civil War, World War 1, World War 2, 9/11; We were united, but not under peace. It was purpose, it was duty, and it was hatred, that moved us towards action.
It was the "promise" of peace that kept us going, and it was that same promise, that allowed us to kill thousands of our own species. A promise that has, not once in all of history, been kept.
Peace will always be broken, because peace was never our goal, not really. The goal was always power, domination (even over our own countrymen), and control, but never peace.
Peace can not be conjured or won in some war, nor can it be achieved on a global scale, not all at once anyway. Peace is an individual discovery, and once attained, it spreads outward to touch one person at a time.
Day by day the process is slow, patient, has twists and turns, heartbreaks and losses, victories and realizations. It will break you down completely, so that it may build you up beautifully.
And when you've finally achieved it, this ever illusive vision of peace, it let's you know by giving you the opportunity to share it with another. The opportunity to pass it on, so that one person's journey may begin, where yours has come to an end. That is peace, that is us, that is you.
This poem depicts my first impressions and feelings I had towards a girl who went on to become my best and oldest friend. I met her in the 3rd grade and have been friends with her ever since, so that's 19yrs now! We've both changed a lot, but through it all we remained in touch. I absolutely love her, and am very proud of the woman she's become. Happy birthday Britt!!! ❤️❤️❤️
How, dear reader, how am I speak to you of miracles?...
Even now you sit with visions of their meaning on your tongue. Pilfering scenarios, the mind would search for mountains.
It's not uncommon to attribute the impossible with such a thing as miracles, but I can assure you, it is unnecessary.
We like to place all things upon a scale. How big how small, how little how much, we quantify our perceptions, so that we may qualify existence...
But what if I were to tell you that this too, was an illusion? An ethereal prison of our own making, one where we play both the jailer, and the captive.
There are no scales, and when you recognize the magic in everything, are grateful for everything, nothing is impossible.
The fact that our universe exists, is a miracle. The fact that life on this planet exists, is a miracle. The fact that YOU exist, opened your eyes again this morning, and are at this very moment reading these words with your beautiful mind, dear reader, is a miracle,
And if any should try and sway you differently, just take a deep breath of the miracle of your life, and remind them, of the miracle within their own. ********************************************** #miracles@mirakee@writersnetwork
We tend to forget often, the one who needs us the most is ourselves, we fall, hurt ,break ,curse ,change ourselves for the love of others for the mere attention. When the one who deserves affection ,the one who suffers with us all along is the selves we're born with