She sat down on her windowsill and looked up at the night sky. The stars shined. The moon was full and bright. She asked the planets to align, to show her a sign. She begged for guidance. Patience. Some kind … Continue reading
I sit, write, scratch out, erase.
I type, space, backspace, delete.
I wanted to write a deep, meaningful poem about this but it’s not coming to me.
I don’t know.
Like I do but I don’t.
I’d like to believe the highest, most esteemed part of myself thinks it knows the secrets of life and that all the answers reside within the whispers of my soul.
But then this mind of mine that I can never seem to shut off has this little voice in it that’s like:
You don’t really know shit.
5 billion people in this universe believe in a God.
With no proof.
I am one of those people.
Although the realistic side to me does think a supernatural entity does make this cold world warmer.
Believing there is a force out there looking out after all of us is very comforting.
Thinking there is a superhuman being in the sky that loves us unconditionally makes us feel less alone.
I can see how we could dream that up to help us sleep at night.
But maybe we’ve lost touch with the purpose of life.
It seems early civilizations knew there was something more than what is.
Native Americans, Mayans, Aztecs and many other cultures and civilizations believed they were spiritual beings.
Where did this spirituality come from?
Before newspapers and books and movies & TVs.
Before government and religion,
They felt a connection to a divine spirit.
Maybe it resides in us and we are just too busy to connect with it.
This post is kind of all over the place and it’s hard for me to focus because it’s such a broad topic.
Let me stick to the question.
Is the human life significant?
I don’t think this universe was created by accident.
I guess that’s what makes you a believer or not.
Is everything an accident? Is everything just a mere coincidence?
Or is there a purpose behind everything?
I’m one of those that believes everything happens for a reason.
Corny and cliche, i know but true.
There are no coincidences.
No coincidence that we have as much water in our body as the earth does.
Not a coincidence that the air is made up exactly right for us to breathe.
Not a coincidence that our skin heals on its own and that we have as many cells in our body as there are stars in the galaxy.
I just don’t see how those things happened by mistake and not by a divine plan and creator.
Einstein said, “There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.”
You are either a believer or a non believer.
I am a believer.
So to answer the question….
Yes, the human life is significant.
I don’t know your name, your age, your race or the dimensions of your face.
I’m not sure whether you’re a man, a woman, the wind or energy.
I don’t know if you run as deep as the sea or if you’re as small as a seed.
I’m not sure where you are but I feel you within me.
Because every time the wind blows I feel you caress me.
At night when I feel alone,
I look up at the moon and see light shimmer and I know it’s you.
And sometimes, I can even hear you in my head.
And that’s when I know, God is everything.
Can you love me?
Can you make me feel beautiful?
Can you hold me?
Can you cuddle with me?
Can you make me feel worthy, special, wanted and loved?
I want to fall in love.
I want to love & be loved.
blah, blah, blah…
If there was a window into me,
you would see the tracks of my tears,
the tears in my soul,
the cracks in my heart.
I don’t want to play a game.
I don’t want to play hard to get.
I don’t want to wait to respond to your message
Or not answer when you call the first time.
There is nothing you have to be, do are have.
There is no one you have to be other than who you are right now, in this moment.
You have enough money.
You have enough love.
You have enough time.
Stop feeling like there’s not enough.
I feel this rage
and stored deep within
shaking and shifting
jerking and moving around within me
As I cry
As my heart bleeds
As my soul weeps
I can hear the branches of the tree
scratching against my window
and crying with me