Poem: Movement

Sprint if you can,

Jog if you must,

Sometimes you’ve just gotta walk,

One step in front of the other,

Leisurely,

Crawl if you can’t do nothing else,

inch by inch,

Onwards.

 

As both, the shadow of the rising sun and the setting sun wash upon you,

As the pale moonlight bathes you,

As complete darkness enshrouds you,

At the beginning, in the middle, at the end and beginning again,

Moving.

 

At the pace you can manage,

Every so often testing your limits,

Crawling to walking to jogging to sprinting,

The rhythmic strides and the stumbles go hand in hand,

Until the eternal stop,

The only stop,

Otherwise, life is made up of movement,

Slow and fast and the in-between,

Moving up towards the ups, moving down towards the downs, moving back up, moving back down, moving, moving,

Movement.

Poem: Life, Simplified

Bogged down with meaning,

need for it to be more,

obsessing over purpose,

spiritual crisis,

dramatic thoughts, dramatic feelings, dramatic emotions,

but the play of life can be observed daily,

how to act, how to be, how to live,

lookup,

the sun rises without complaint,

spends it’s time giving light and warmth to others,

then it sets without complaint,

life, simplified.

 

Stoic Lesson: Meditating On Death and Life

An ordinary journey will be incomplete if you come to a stop in the middle of it, or anywhere short of your destination, but life is never incomplete if it is an honorable one. At whatever point you leave life, if you leave it in the right way, it is whole.” (Seneca, LXXVII)

What would be an honorable life?

One that is not wasted. A life where each day is used to its maximum. Where nothing that can be done right now, at this moment, is left for tomorrow. A life where you show love and appreciation for others. Gratitude towards your loved ones who have helped make your life a little easier. A life where you help others, ease their burden, aid their pain and suffering, improve someone else’s life. A life that is full of action which is directed towards a meaningful outcome. Achieving the outcome is secondary, the effort is primary. A life that can be viewed as an example, whether it be an example of what man can accomplish or if it’s an example of what man can endure or how to balance the complexities of life or how simple life can be. A life that brings joy to others. A life that is full of attempts, failure, and attempts again.

All of these seem to me as honorable aims.

What matters is not how long the acting lasts, but how good it is. It is not important at what point you stop. Stop whenever you will — only make sure that you round it off with a good ending. (Seneca, LXXVII)

Whats a good ending?

When those who love and care for you know that you love and care for them. Your emotions and feelings are relayed to them so clearly that when the end comes there is never a doubt. A good end is also knowing when it’s enough, knowing what is enough for you. There isn’t a maddening attempt to hold on to the past and you’re able to step away from the “limelight” and allow another to take an attempt. There is no honor nor is it good to try and cling on to the glory days. A good ending would be one where you have acted in such a manner that your actions can relay to others what your character was about, what you were about, who you were. There is no need for explanation. Lastly, acceptance of the trials and tribulations, the ups and downs and the finality at the end.

All of these seem like a good ending.

Poem: I want

Want it all

want to be strong

want to be successful

want to be in love

want to take care of loved ones

want to be daring

want to be adventurous

want to be great

want to be heroic

want to be an example

want to be helpful.

 

Want to be

want to be

want to be.

 

The sun goes down,

another one,

want it to come back,

so I can not waste it, wanting,

want tomorrow to come,

want yesterday back.

 

Want

want

want.

 

Wanting meaning,

wanting purpose,

wanting life

wanting this or that,

no wants seem to come true,

as regrets pile on,

and I want them to go away.

Poem: On To The Next

Endless,

the good shall pass,

the bad shall pass,

it’ll come again, go when it pleases, return without a notice,

but all of it shall pass.

 

Just as the rising of the sun,

just as the desire to hit the snooze,

just as the wave which gathers, again and again,

just as the comfortable thoughts of procrastination,

just as the mountain ranges beyond which are more mountains,

just as the cravings for pleasure,

endless, once more, forever, best to accept it all.

 

The foundation.

The insight.

The knowledge.

The awareness.

 

Just as a mothers love,

just as a fathers sacrifice,

just as a desire for more,

just as a need to be someone.

Always there, again and again.

 

Obstacles and resistance,

growth and change,

regression and mistakes,

cyclical life.

 

Tides come and go, washing on the shore, pulling with it some things, pushing with it some other, each instance is changed, each moment anew, each success temporary, each failure the same, on to the next, the next hurdle, the next craving, the next accomplishment, the next love, the next heartbreak, the next promise, the next letdown, the next laugh, the next cry, the next day, the sun rises, always and forever, prepare for the next start.

 

 

Poem: The Fragile Self

Fragile is the body that accompanies us,

flesh that can easily be bruised or torn,

bones which fracture and break,

organs malfunction, sometimes due to our own behavior and other times, it’s just the luck of the draw,

colds, fevers, headaches, stubbed toes, cancer, liver failure, peanut allergy, heart disease, chronic pain, bad backs, sore feet, toothaches, bullet wounds, kidney stones, arthritis,

just a list of reminders,

each thing evidence of our fragile nature.

 

The fragility doesn’t stop there, it’s not merely physical,

no, it accompanies our mental,

the mind that clings to fears of what-ifs,

the mind that clings to the afterthoughts of what could have been,

jealousy, anxiety, envy, resentment, eagerness, yearning, disappointment, adrenaline spike and dumps, endorphins rush and crash, sadness, happiness, discontent, disassociation,

the constant loop of emotions and feelings which keeping reminding man of how fragile, how childlike he is.

 

That’s all there is to it,

the reminder of how un-great man is,

daily reality check,

to keep the ego in line,

flesh, blood, bones, electrons, neurons,

just another animal,

and as Aurelius said,

man being an animal, he must get up and work.

Poem: To What Ends?

Everywhere man is in solitude,

hunched over, tired eyes, aching mind,

working the minutes away for some hopeful future.

 

To what ends?

withered bones, scattered ashes, fitted to a box,

to that end, we all slowly move,

inching on the conveyer belt,

the furnace blazes ahead,

the lucky ones feel its heat and see its light upon their skin,

perhaps they can change,

the unlucky ones go in blind, at once, right now,

the absurdity never hits them as they stand on the street corner.

 

We all meet the universal end,

the heartbeats but its life never reaches the limbs,

the limbs obey the slave mind,

which keeps the man hunched over,

for the mind is molded to obey as well,

and all there is left is to work,

as the hot blood grows cold,

as the sunsets perhaps for the last time,

working, working, working,

as if it matters at all.