“the thing he loves”

passion. and the absence of it.

can we live like there’s nothing beyond our self-built excuses?

in all truth, I’m just trying to prove I’m right.

but maybe, I say maybe, I can suspend my judgment and really try and be someone else.

losing my ego. it’s scary, but I think this is the essence of love.

it means not being afraid of being hurt. scars to prove my braveness.

and here the ego sneaks in again.

and yet, in the niche of times lies the answer, but it is covered in dust.

and death shall come, and it’ll have your eyes.

if love and death are complementary, we need to dispel the fear of dying in the process.

love offers a form of eternity, but we need to accept contamination.

it’s a physical yielding, and then the mind is shut out.

so we start feeling. need, loss, intensity, continuity.

I can laugh in the face of seers. I don’t need that gift.

I know the universe will mercifully guide me to dissolvence.

but the process. the process is painful and uncertain.

I’m so blessed. I experienced this and have come back purified.

no sense of sin, no hindrance.

I’ve been so blind, walking in the darkness.

but it has always been there. caught my reflection in the mirror.

the mirror came framed in flesh, but still. I saw myself for the first time,

and was saved. a giant step for human kind.

what can I do for you now? will my words ever be strong enough

to pierce your  armour and make you bleed?

Yet each man kills the thing he loves.