Wake up dear.

“It’s All About Love” Photographer : Candida Performa (cc)

I wrestle with not wanting to be noticed, yet wanting to effect change. Sometimes I relish speaking my mind to brick walls simply because the act alone is quite zealous for me.  It’s as if by saying thoughts, thoughts come into being. I said it. Bam. It is. Like sifting though all the particles of mind to pick out the bad and distill the real.

It’s interesting how the world is manipulated. The only way the world can be good is if it can rise up in spite of itself. It’s not as if pain is pleasure, but the two are twined for now. We maneuver through the maze, trying not to step on each other. A dance of sorts, but a wearying one.

I’ll be glad to be older, the young years can be full of trouble and frailty. My only goal is to find goodness now so that it will stay with me when my roots set. I can feel myself turning 30, though it’s still a good 5 years away. Can’t say I ever lived the teenage dream, but then I can’t say one ever existed.

To be a child.

There’s a picking bird underneath my brain, pick pick picking.  Between the conjunction of spine and tissue, in a dark little place. A dead little bird.

There are many who boast of their love of truth, who, in truth, are only interested in what they see to be “new” and are quick to make their nobility known. Does one consumed by noble desire have time to complain against lies?

There are also many who believe in “common sense” as a virtue – as the only of the every – and that deviation from this common carries folly. Have current convictions been immune to the spiral of history?

The tragedy, is that the young are getting younger, and the old are getting foolish. Innocence broke a long time ago, and though the larger shards have been gathered, there are still so many grains and slivers without meaning. What are children now but ignorant screams hushed by ignorant ears?

Now, little bird, listen.

I cannot stop you, you have been given authority. I cannot kill you, you are already dead. I cannot silence you, you are too quick for me. What I can do, is give you the attention you never asked for, and ask,

“Who are you?”

EDIT: [9/11/14 12:46 – Something just clunked into the window next to me. I’m not certain, but I think it was a bird!]

3 states of progress.

1) I don’t know a thing! Everything is too hard and too wonderful! I want to be great!

2) Aha, I have an idea. I’ve formulated a plan. I’m an innovator, a merchant, a dreamer. I am true to truth. I understand. I will be great soon.

3) The childish ways were better. I was not an innovator, a merchant or a dreamer. I conduct truth, and am therefore, great.