not late yet

The cells fabricating illusions, I remain silent, lost in contemplation. Not a single word escapes my lips; it's anything but tranquil, a symphony of relentless chaos. Yet, there's a peculiar melody within, the very essence that propels me forward, unwavering, resolute. I'm no quitter; this journey is beautiful, evoking a delightful hum in my soul, though words remain unspoken.

Eyes have fixated on me, time has drifted by, but to them, it's an over-energetic lad absorbed in nothingness. For me, it's a profound exploration of minutely detailed memories, opinions, past scenarios, battles, friendships, love, family, the divine, extraterrestrials, karma, sports, and a myriad of thoughts—common, random, occasional, rare, and otherwise—all heightened, creating a maddening but euphoric tapestry with each quiet breath.

A foolish grin betrays my attempt at restraint; the muscles won't obey, and why should they? Smiling isn't a crime. Laughter ensues, followed by the realization that my peculiar behavior was labeled as "weird." I ease into it, still without a word, basking in the refreshing embrace of contemplation, the tireless cells powering my thoughts.

The world remains wonderful, yet naive and bittersweet, a cacophony of contradictions and unapologetic hypocrisy. It's immensely entertaining, tinged with sorrow, a juxtaposition that adds depth to existence. The other half of life craves comfort, and it's readily bestowed, encompassing care, attention, love, hate, lust—the fabric of existence, woven tightly into our being. It endures, offering hope for a future in this competitive and unjust world we've grown accustomed to. We tolerate it until the wrongs become "normal," but our minds stir, prompting us to view things differently, an unexplainable "different" only felt deep within.

I recognize the return to normalcy within myself, breaking the silence to inquire about the time from the old man beside me. He proclaims it's late, and with a smile, I depart for the solace of home, yearning for much-needed rest.


SHINE ON.

Comments

  1. We don't mind it until it gets normal....so true...it hitted me deep💌

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