The Shape

I feel empty..

i know why. I see everything around me, knowing how much it matters, it's worth and wonder but choose to deem it all un necessary.

What matters? Nothing? Everything? I want to see a line between the two but there is no line. Only a choice. Have I made mine?

 

Who matters? We run into our friends, lovers, companions and family everywhere we walk. Only we choose not to see them. We see only ourselves. Why?

Race? Culture? Our struggle to be different to hide the truth that we are all the same. Blinded by what makes us unique and different. Difference is a state of mind.

 

Overwhelmed by the grand scope of the shape, the world in which we live in is our own. Everyone sees it differently, but it remains the same outside ourselves.

This problem is too big for the singular mind. Is it a problem at all? how can a spec be so infinite as the shape it sees through it's own eyes. Its own mind. Is it it's own?

 

Society is a monument to failure. Success is a brand for the working class, the clowns of our spare time. Dispensed like water, like life. Control the current, control everything.

We are all it's victim. the Kings and the rats. The same air poison's our lungs, yet one decides who breathes the most. Turn the tables, flip the coin, the result is the same.

 

Like a switch we turn out the lights, blinded by our own reality. Shadows cast through the rays of a better tomorrow. Tomorrow does not exist, yesterday is done. Now remains.

Only when you see the shape, nothing matters. There is no beginning. Life it not a line. There is no destination. Death is not an end. There is no end. The shape is

all that remains.

 

Everybody sees it. But how do you define it?