Growth

My mind was once a machine, whirring as if to say,

Think is not fleeting.

One idea, one belief, that was enough for me,

Think is not feeling.

Living in a community of my isolation knowing,

Think is not fleeting.

The animated beats of my chest reduced to a timid tapping telling me,

Think is not fleeting.
 

My greatest distraction was my undoing.

Think is not fleeting.

We argue, I win, you hate me, I win.

Think is not fleeting.

Master of my own destiny in a world of philosophical decay.

Think is not fleeting.
 

A broken moral compass is a broken man.

Think is not fleeting.

A broken man will not admit his brokenness.

Think is not fleeting.

Not until he is broken beyond repair.

Think is not fleeting.
 

Or so he thinks.
 

This is me, this is me!

Think is not fleeting.

I survive, this is how I survive!

Think is not fleeting.

All is taken away but the ability to hate.

Think is not fleeting.
 

Then a crack forms,

Think is not fleeting.

Am I a product of reality; its bleak, intrinsic thought?

Think is not fleeting.

Or a product of misguided youth?
 

The crack widens, I feel myself slipping!

Think is not fleeting.

Falling, confused, flailing, screaming but no words come out.

Think is not fleeting.
 

Deeper than I have been before,

Nothing but echos, my arduous echos

Heat and cold, sweat and shivers.

Break me from this loneliness, break me!

The weight of my distraction too much for my shoulders.

Then Light shines through, Light shines over me.
 

I shield my eyes from the incandescent Glow,

It was always there.

Breathing ever slowly, remorse sets in, for the first time in a long time, remorse sets in.

“It’s up to you, it’s up to you.”

Breathing heavily now, doubt riddles the machine that is my mind,

And then I hear that beat, an ever steady beat. A moment of weakness or a moment of strength? This I do not know, the I answer I do fear.

Beat, beat, beat, beat.

I scoffed at those chasing after the wind, only to realize that I myself have been chasing but a breeze.

Beat, beat, beat, beat.

It doesn’t have to be. Oh! I know it doesn’t have to be!

Beat, beat, beat, beat.

Look what you can have, what you used to have! You run for answers, yet you run from the Answer!

Beat, beat, beat, beat.

Do you get it now?

Beat, beat, beat, beat.

I pause. I stare into the Light, directly into the Light.

I get it now.

My soul is renewed, no longer of metal and wire,

The walls of this once ruined community torn down.

In its place stands a nation of Peace,

Not a product of reality nor of youth,

But a product of Peace, the most freeing of things,

Free to hear the enthusiastic beats of heart unchained as it proclaims,

Feel not fleeting.
 

A universe of no meaning is a universe unworthy of attention and detail.

A universe of meaning is a universe worthy of Peace.

Worthy of planets, stars, nebulas, and galaxies,

Of oceans and streams, deserts and forests, mountains and valleys

Smiles, kindness, acceptance, laughter, embraces,

Friendships, companionships, kinships, and love.

And so I learned,

And so I grew,

And so, my friend, so shall you.

 

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