These are just some stuff I have been wondering about recently. If you have any thoughts or feedback, let me know in the comments!
As a child with a paperback stuck between my Little fingers My curiosity was held in high esteem I soaked up the tiniest pieces of information with my sponge-like mind Words tumbled out of me in a garbled language Questions that kept me pondering The meaning of my seven years on this Infinite planet that spun through the galaxy on A tilted axis When the sunlight came streaming through the kitchen windows And the smell of Ma's freshly baked cookies Wafted through the house My tantalized mind flung open the doors of Our cozy house To bathe in its embrace It shattered the barriers of our complacent Normalcy With questions that had yet to gave been asked "Ma, how can you tell if you're unconscious?" I inquired with all the wonder I could muster Though her conscious unconsciousness was unwilling to respond i felt as though i had struck a deep nerve That rippled across the waves of her body and Entered her phantom heart She gave me a modest reply, "The knowing is our undoing." Confusing me for years to come How can knowing destroy us If seeking answers is how we learn To unknow? How could our bodies and minds physically Pause in the clutch of a world That is constantly moving? Musn't we move with it? 365 days 8,760 hours 525,600 minutes Every moment we spend Soul-searching for our true purpose And every other second we abandon our quest To attend to the progression of the material world So how could knowing become our undoing? Knowlege might become our savior If used correctly It should not become a tool we're dependent on But an idea given life by our existence A weapon used to travel between external and internal Worlds Without all of our questions knowledge cannot thrive The question for me that will always survive the test of time is who are we truly improving the world for if we don't focus on Our life's meaning first? Is there point in creating a better world for others if we don't satisfy our own thirst?
Spilled Ink 