I wrote this a little over a week ago..

I hope you'll understand
That I can no longer tell
Anything
The truth is shrouded in mere possiblity
And no one knows if you don't
The chances you get are the ones you strive for
But if you choose to turn out your own light
And let go of who you are, your sight..
Who could help?

Change is forthcoming
You cannot deny it
Because you have to live
If you waste your existance in wondering
Of all the things that could have been,
or may ever "be"
You will be trapped within all Time
And Existance
There would indeed be no reason.
For nothing matters without acceptance and
Love towards what there is
And always has been.

But I understand your confusion
You do not even ask
Yet I see it in you
And you should know that...
"Understanding" will not come
Until you realize that there is nothing to understand
There is everything, and there is nothing.
And they are one, the same.

http://indigosociety.com/poems-t7157.html

random poems

~obligatory comment since i crashed your thread

i'm not fond of commenting on creative pieces. i believe at the subjectivity of experience negates the relevancy of response, value of appraisal, and perhaps something else with 'of' in the middle of two other words.

proceeding..

> That I can no longer tell
Anything
The truth is shrouded in mere possiblity

> There is everything, and there is nothing.
And they are one, the same

the latter statement seems to contradict the former then again, "truth" is perhaps localised.. at times being true, at times not.

as my "artwork" indicates, i am a practitioner and advocate of stochastic method, synchronicity. when two things are adjacent, their merit can shift with observer and moment. something prosaic can seem artful and profound with a shift in context. "it is what it is."

and this is how i respond