We are change of life

imagine life as a cosmic stew of which feeling speaks the only truth. all this talk, all this rationally is nothing without sensory interpretation. the “true” language of being is feeling. if life is but a chemical reaction, how can sensory interpretation be deemed unfit as rational? surely we can quantify precepts, but means cannot encompass the odds and ends. i trudge through a goop traversed by many others, with no more knowledge or understanding than those of “formal” training. we’ve created specific words, although none can contain me. how can we be expected to use a language to speak standards, when we are anything but sameness? We are constantly changing, and will forever be changing, as long as life exists. life is a change otherwise it would be death.

Consuming the production of sameness

i’m drowning in redundancy.
luckily i still breath.
to breathe is repetitious,
but i cannot do without.
i hold my breath,
only to submit to necessity.
i can’t resist long enough,
and i don’t see why i would.
i don’t think it beneficial,
at least not now.
this involuntary action
is the summation of my being.
i repeat what i am to
be what i am.
to change the nature of my will
runs counter to my self.
how can i change,
while remaining the same?

The wind speaks according to listening

there’s this whisper in my ear.
others can’t hear it.
i’m sure if they do,
it doesn’t speak what i hear.
the wind of such eloquence tickles my ear,
although, others have stated such experience.
who am i to discredit them,
because like them,
i’ve felt the wind.
it’s just that this caress
seems to differ to theirs.
can either of us be wrong?
of course, to one another.
but are we really wrong if
we follow our true nature?