Time

Take a moment and look around you, think
About due dates, bedtimes, travel times. Think
About when you were late, how much time you
Put into tasks, assigned to each person.

Time is a human invention. If you
Look around, birds are never late, a deer
Is not rushed, squirrels don't have a mealtime.
Dogs don't have a bedtime or a naptime.

Humanity alone is the one ruled
By time, a law of our own invention.
Clocks are everywhere, there is a time for
Everything, yet there is no time at all

For what really matters. Not enough
Hours in the day for the things you want to
Do. Obligations piling up as we
Go, fearing the day when time will run out.

Being a reader

Everyone in the world is different, we all know this. However, certain people are similar, see the world the same way. Values, upbringing, education, all of this varies from person to person. However, the gifts with which you were born cannot be explained. Some people can run faster, jump higher or sing better than others. Some are prone to depression, or alcoholism. Some see the world as a dark and lonely place, others, as the most beautiful thing in the universe. Some can see beyond the ordinary, see what makes everything so beautifully extraordinary.

When we are born, we are either born readers, or non-readers. Being born a reader is the greatest honor and privilege there is. It allows us to become one with the characters on the page, to see and feel a world much different than our own. To be a reader, is to identify with these fictional characters in such a way that they no longer are fictional. They are there, waiting for us; words of wisdom on ink pages, their presence always comforting. A reader lives a thousand lives within the one they have, and gets to know so many kinds of people on such a deep level that it helps them deal with real people. If you are lucky enough, you find that one character, the one that you know is who you are, and it helps you have a deeper understanding of yourself. Once you find that one book, that one character, your whole view of the world shifts, and you begin to see all the beauty it holds. You see everything unfolding like a plot. Everything is interconnected, and if you are also a writer, you understand how all these strings eventually come together to weave the fabric of the world. Once you understand this, everything that happens has a reason. You are like a character in a book, you go along your path, not knowing what the end of the book holds for you. You can't skip ahead, there are no detours, only the long way around. You have to go through everything the author wants you to, because in the end, all of those experiences are the things that are going to help you make the difficult choices, the seemingly impossible ones. When tears are streaming down your face, when you think you've made the wrong choices, pick up that book again and give it another read. Remember that even though it seems hard now, you can get through. Its one kink in the long journey one little detour amongst hundreds. You will fall apart, you will be brought to your knees, you will fail. But there are people out there ready to put you back together and help you back on your feet. You will live the death of your innocence, and at some point, the death of people you love. It will hurt, and it will be unbearable, but your burden does not have to be just yours to bear.

You are a character in a book, even though your life is mundane and ordinary, you are the main protagonist in your life. You, and only you, gets to decide what happens in your life. If something makes you unhappy, stop doing the thing. If people treat you like crap, stop talking to them. Take control of your life, show them who you are, and let them know that you are worth getting to know. Everyone around you is different, and no, you won't get along with everyone, but you can at least say that you tried.

Fictional characters help us understand ourselves in a way that is impossible to explain. Its like looking at yourself from above, watching yourself do and say all these things, and know in your core that this is who you are. When they react to things, you think that you would never react like that, but in the end, you do.

Every character, as well as every person has their own journey to follow. Yes, free will is a major part of what makes us human, but no matter what we choose, there are some things that are out of our control. However, how we react to certain things, like the death of a loved one, can send us on a path we would never have expected. Authors use this to send their characters on a destiny they have chosen for them, and use death to make them capable of becoming a better person, of wanting a better world for the ones who come after them, or simply for themselves. They also use this to try and mend the characters, as well as themselves, because only through writing and reading about experiences like these can we reach a deeper level of understanding of the situation at hand, and only then can we ever hope to know ourselves well enough to predict how we will react in the future. Does that not help us mend the pieces the world believes to be broken? Or does it simply prove to ourselves that we are not broken as people, but as a society?

Since I was young, I have always known this: Life damages us, everyone. We can't escape that damage. But now, I am also learning this: We can be mended. We mend each other. (Roth, 526)

Roth, Veronica. Alliegent, Katherine Tegen Books, 2013.

Love or Pain

How can we learn to love someone else, place
Our trust in someone that might hurt us. How
To make sure it's not just for the chase?
Will they break the vows they make here and now?

We don't know if we will get hurt, we all
Get broken by life, that is a fact. But
Will they mend us? Will they help us stand tall,
Take on the world with us, bandage our cuts?

We need to allow ourselves to fall, trust
In this stranger with the whispers of our
Hearts. Open ourselves, be flooded with dust
From the world, open the doors of the tour.

Truly loving someone is to let them
In, and to not kick him out on a whim.

Soul

Don't let them tell you,
That they know who you are
When they've only seen your summer.
Don't let them define you,
For you are not a single thing
You do not fit neatly in a box,
You are the ever changing tide,
The relentless waves of the sea
Different from every angle,
Old and young in harmony.
They have not seen
Your inner demons,
The secret box you keep hidden,
Within the fortress of your heart.
You are not a label,
You are not one thing.
You are the wind that howls at night,
The rosy first rays of sunlight,
The soft petals under one's hand.
Your body holds stars,
Planets, solar systems,
A whole universe waiting to be discovered.
But don't share your secret,
For it is far too precious.
No one can imagine
The vast plains, the waterfalls,
The tidal waves, the hurricanes.
The perfect storm,
That is hidden within your soul.

The Night I Became One With Time (Reworked)

I traveled along a dark path one night,

I found a man, who told me of a curse,

Who told me he could show me the last light,

The light at the end of the universe.

I grabbed his hand and ran away through time,

I saw things beyond my wildest dreams, stars

Growing cold, being born, whole lifetimes,

Passing me by, fleeting, like fast cars.

Saw the beginning of all, Creation

I saw pain and anguish, everlasting.

The End, damnation of generations

My life came flashing, and I understood:

Only through time was I able to see

All that make us human, all the beauty.

Our Walls

Life is defined by what we hold back,
What we chose not to say.
No one knows better than us,
What we hide from the world.
Each one of us projects an image,
A façade, of what we believe
Society wants to see,
Trapping who we are
Within ourselves.
The walls we so carefully built
The ones we were told would keep us safe,
Have become a prison.
They no longer keep us safe from harm,
But isolate us, keeps everyone out.
We have become a world
Caged within our minds,
Unable to speak up.
But this doesn't have to be the way it is,
You can say no.
You can tear down your walls
Brick by brick, show the world
Who was hiding inside them.
Stop staying quiet,
No longer be a standby,
A mindless drone,
Letting horrid things happen
To the people around you,
Things you could have prevented.
Do not regret what you cannot change,
But change so you don't regret.

Human Instict (reworked)

Happy the man who is angry and scared,
For he is fundamentally mortal
More honest with himself and the world, dared
Speak his mind, protest inhuman morals.

Fear, the driving force of humanity
Has made us stronger, faster, blood pumping
Through our veins, pure rage helping it along,
Making men desperate for their freedom.

From the trenches of war, humanity
Rose form the ashes, anger their powerful
Incentive, building civilisation
From ruin, in ungodly lands, they strived

Happy the man who is angry and scared,
For he is a Creator, a fighter,
Poet, a knight of the unwritten word
The building block of an equal world.