He flew like He was meant to fly,
Like he was going to tear the sky,
But the sky was too far and not real,
An untouchable, unreachable goal,
An illusion, that’s all,
There is this time of hope and uncertainty
After you sow a seed and before
You see a little sapling in its place.
Watering a patch of dirt day after day,
No proof or progress that your eyes can see,
Yet you believe in what it can be,
While on tenterhooks and in turmoil
You hold on to the dream of a mighty tree,
The nobility or the foolishness of that faith
Shall be proved with the fate of that seed.
I look out into the starry night sky, only to lose myself
The way an audacious wave looses itself in the enormous ocean
Millions of Colossal balls of fire looking like small glimmering spec of dust
What relevance does one have in this vast universe full of giants
Continue reading “Meaning In Insignificance”
What if it’s all just a work of fiction,
What if it’s just a story that I am telling myself,
So I can feel good, so I can feel something.
What if everything I consider real and meaningful
Is something trivial exaggerated by my mind, a soft lie.
Continue reading “Our Parallel Realities”