I soften my position so I can understand more.
Cycles of charm, seasons of bliss.
I watch people relate without getting close,
dance around each other,
brush each other with the sharp edge of their words –
a type of dampness that builds up and eventually settles in the bones.
What has a man profited,
if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?
if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?
I soften my position so I can understand more.
Seasons of cyclical charm, holiday cheer followed by new year cordials.
I listen to people relate by sharing their nerves,
anxiously attack with verbosity each other’s sense of personal space –
a type of neurosis, which heightens to snap brain stems loose from cords of spine.
How has a human profited,
if inner wealth remains untreasured, unearthed and unrestored?
if inner wealth remains untreasured, unearthed and unrestored?
I soften my position so I can understand more.
Cycles of bliss, cheery seasons of charm.
I smell the peopled habitual norms,
demonstrations of affection towards travelling companions of life’s journey –
a type of belief in individuality that quickens into love and hastens in the mind.
When has humanity profited,
if in realizing dreams, becomes too busy to be kind?
if in realizing dreams, becomes too busy to be kind?
I soften my position so I can understand more.
Seasonal cheer, charming cycles of hibernating snuggly within caves of time.
I taste the race of people trampling the earth to find their selves,
compliments of kindred spirits traversing the globe in spiraling numbers –
a type of travel that frenzies to intentionally lose baggage, in order to lighten the load.
Why has humanity profited,
if the winning of liberty declares a war on peace of mind?
if the winning of liberty declares a war on peace of mind?
I soften my position so I can understand more.
Redefining cheer, charm, bliss and seasonal cycles of growth.
I touch the people within my heart,
civilizations of like-minded souls individualized into single-minded focus –
no type casting, no profiling of emotional bodies into shapeless pointless views.
Where has humanity profited,
if in all hearts everywhere lie dormant dreams of more.
if in all hearts everywhere lie dormant dreams of more.
~~ Other People's Fingerprints ~~
Sometime after 1821 Henri Frédéric Amiel wrote;
“The man who has no inner life is a slave to his surroundings,
as the barometer is the obedient servant of the air at rest,
and the weathercock the humble servant of the air in motion.”
