“Ignorance is bliss.” I realize Thomas Gray’s famous quote is often misconstrued, however, I think interpreting it in this way is equally important as the original. When staying up late and obsessing over the incredible amount of problems the world faces and has been facing for centuries. Website after website, book after book. Sometimes I find answers but most of the time I don’t. This tends to make me extremely upset, which in turn leads to even more reading and researching. I get sad over things that will never affect me. I want to help find solutions to all of these issues, but I couldn’t possibly do that in the short amount of time I have on earth. In this way, my constant thirst for knowledge is really damaging to my mental health. I can’t say I wish I was ignorant to everything I have learned, but there is definitely comfort in not knowing. It’s much easier to be happy when you turn a blind eye to the suffering, corruption, poverty and other problems in the world. In my own words I would say that knowledge isn’t always power, and it sure as hell won’t help you sleep at night either.
My hope is someday my words are weaponized and used for good.
Poetic weaponry used to discourage hate.
Words that hit the soft places, like a boxer dissecting his opponent.
Combinations and rhythm that quickly catch your attention, but leave you defenseless.
A volley that ends with a period and there’s nothing left to say.
I want the most violent thing a person ever uses to just be words….
Strength is not destroying your enemy, but changing them inside, changing their mind.
Words are like leaves,
In time, would be blown away by
Gusts of the four winds.
At times some are kept in one’s mind,
Even etched in one’s heart.
Regardless, not all stand the test of time,
So soon it would all be lost and forgotten,
Like all of us mortals,
Those who have known greatness
And the rest-not-so,
Little it does matter at the end,
Alas nothing really last!
I’m feeling like the corpse of a cat on the side of the highway
Whose owners never found him but they hope he’s okay
Guilt radiates from the driver inside
Of the car that crushed his neck and his spine
And from the child who mistakenly let him outside
“What is love”? is such perennial question. Philosophers, poets and writers , have tried to answer through out the ages, none are able to tell us lesser mortals the answer. It could be the quest of the soul has it journeys through this instrument our mortal body to find perfectness, contentment , ecstasy, euphoria, heaven, utopia, we will never know. We will keep on searching and speculating.