I was a stone thrown, a pebble, but I travel light over the surface of this ocean that we call life, for every touch shall leave a ripple.

We’re no more than simple objects, like a pencil or a piece of paper; temporary expendable supplies waiting to be replaced when we’re no longer needed, commodities of a dark age, ruled over by beings with no souls.
But what makes things even worse is the consent, the silent acquiescence and conformity to these standards.

You will wither when the time comes, you will fall when your season has arrived and the last autumn wind blows and shakes you off the branch you have for so long clung to.
But don’t be sad, it is only right that we must give up the space we have occupied, so that new ones from there can grow, else life can not continue.
Verily, death is a form of cleansing, it keeps the conduit through which life flows unclogged. So, put aside your ego, know you’re part of something much bigger than yourself.

Or like flowers, we’re meant to open up facing the sun, the light, the empty space.. and though in the darkness we grew, in the sun we completely blew up, each petal reaches its own way, each limb stretches out in the waiting of a hug from the universe itself.

The god we invented out of our own perverted thoughts even impregnated its own creation; had a son that he left behind, watched as he was tortured to death, this god is the spitting image of our most disgusting personalities.

For you my love is a universe,
A sky luminous with stars,
Vast, ageless, and ever expanding,
Every celestial sphere lambent is thought of you, blinking, shimmering in distance,
Some of them are bright and others dim,
But to me they are all equally alluring,
Equally beautiful.

One day this flame will no longer hang on the wick of this candle, so chill.. but oh the irony, how we’re burning ourselves out.