Watch the watch swing

To be so empty,
but so full.

To have no wants,
but to fill the wants given.

To surrender,
but in doing so,
to be given complete freedom.

The mind is the strings,
the body, the puppeteer's plaything.

You can't help but watch,
as one arm moves,
without the owner's permission.

You may see it happen from
the devil on your shoulder.
You may let it slip away.

But sometimes,
the ghost of such memories
is better than knowing the truth.

And sometimes,
all that
emptiness
can leave
you full
of
bliss.

Normally thinking about it.

What is normal?

A standard that lasts for little time,
then changed when we please?

An extra thing to worry for,
because if we are not normal,
what are we?

Different.

Off.

Weird.

And to the most normal of them:

Dangerous.

We, who push the boundary.
And they, who hold the line.

 Forever at war, until the right gets it's way.

They have forever fought for so many things.
Whatever came next, they were against it.

We, however, have always stood for one purpose:

Expression.

They fear everything we are,
from loving,
to creative.

But they never fear for the future,
until we enact it.

Try to stomp out the seeds of growth.
You shall never crush them all.

And in the end,
you need not eat the fruit,
so just step away from the tree.

Is it normal to fight what is normal?
I don't care, and neither should you.

We're different.

And again.

You ever feel like,
"Hey, I've already done this before?"
"Hasn't this already happened?"

Life feels like repetition.

Maybe we know what to do,
because it's already been done?

Are we travellers of time
in our own lives?

I've watched reactions do what seemed
improbable

(for impossible is an impossibility),

and seen life
that was too similar to what happened before
to have happened before.

Too many times has a dream
come to life.

It's not just an odd set of odds,
but it's not future's sight.

An unassuming answer lays at the end of this,
which could shock the world.

Until I stumble upon those words of truth,
I'll continue to grab flying forks,
and go over the same problems.

Again.

And again.

And again.

The illusion

When fantasy collides with reality,
all we end up with is visonry.

Seeing what's perfect through all the smoke,
and ignorant of needed recovery.

You are an unstoppable monster in your eyes,
and you confirm it to others with your lies.

You're the only one that matters to you,
and yet you matter to no one.

When fantasy and reality collide...
there will only be nothing.

Watching failing system

Brave people set off for greatness.

Their provisions few,
their ambitions showing,
they face this dreaded sea.

Their future is foggy,
just as soon as they set sail.

They can't see what's coming.

But they know.

As soon as some set off,
just as soon do they sink.

They will live.
But those few will never test these waters again.

Those with more talent push on.

They know their fate,
but refuse to accept it.

Pirates come,
taking a few,
and leaving those who earned their lives
to sink further ahead.

These sailors of creative powers sail,
surviving deaths, sickness, relationships.

The feeling of living off of nothing,
save the emptiness around them.

They still know the worse is out there.

And suddenly, it's in front of them.
Their greatest challenge:

Those who have succeeded before them.

Those who have turned their backs to the love they had,
turning away so that money was their frontal view.

They raised their wall,
blocking those who will join them.

Many lose everything here,
and swim home, broken.

Some lose the more important things,
and join those on the wall.

And very, very few succeed,
and ride on through,
to their adventure.

I can only listen to the rumours,
never seeing this myself.

I just sit here,
preparing my dingy,
and waiting for the day.

Waiting for the day
that the wall
must fall
down.

Serendipitious

I met a man today.

He asked for a bus ticket.
He gave me advice.

I walked away richer than I was.

He told me to dress my best on the second encounter,
to show people what you want to be to them.

He said that it's so much better to say hello tomorrow
than a goodbye today.

To take time when early,
instead of rushing ahead to wait.

To look at beauty for what it is,
but to not ask why.

And not only did he teach me all this,
he taught it without a word of relevance.

The conversation with any stranger
can open your eyes to the relevant.

Why did our parents shoo them away?