A thought is merely a thing.
So profound in its own way,
We give meaning to things
Or it can be said we give meaning to thoughts
Lifeless in its own way,
We cling to the meanings of things
And we try to let go
But the letting go,
It is another meaning and another attachment in itself.
Lets be humble.
Lets keep it simple.
Aestheticism is subjective.
What I consider beautiful others may not.
There is beauty all around us but many refuse to see it.
There is beauty in a molded face by a plastic surgeon
And there is beauty in the aged face of life.
There is beauty in our intellect
And there is beauty in our irrationality.
There is beauty in life,
And there is beauty in death.
It is up to us to find it.
For a moment I digress.
And forget about beauty and I focus my camera.
On a blistering cold evening I walk along the boulevard.
At the corner I see a woman, aged beyond her youthful aura.
Skin tanned as leather.
She blankets herself with a quilted fabric
That flows in the ocean breeze.
Near is a Dior advertisement telling me what beauty is.
But I refuse!
This homeless woman stands in front of me
Stares down the barrel of my lens
And I will tell you.
This person who is blistered, aged, and blanketed
Is beauty afar from our common consciousness.
In the city where I can walk freely and aimlessly in to what I call culture,
I find the most amazing people.
I find certain individuals who have the most amazing stories to tell.
Who explain their life as I sit with my mind open.
In a corner cafe' we all sip our caffeinated drinks.
We all set our eyes a gaze as the people go by.
And because of this, my interest in my self-identity grows.
I have been living for 20 years now and still have little clue as to who I am.
Maybe that’s just it; the not knowing is the knowing.
By negating my uncertainty I know who I am.
I am a positive charge in a negative world.
And as a burning bush put it once, “I am who I am.”
So now I ask you.
Can you pick yourself up by your own bootstraps?
It is all there.
But my identity is beside the point.
I am missing it.
And so is everyone else.
Lets take it back for a little and sit in silence.
Not because we are mourning,
But rather, we are waking up.
Silence is bliss and letting go is silence of the mind.
Therefore we must let go.
Lets all wake up and realize who we are.
We are all dependent on what we call each other.
Don't you see?
Try to draw the line where your self ends and the rest of the world begins.
It is an impossible line to draw.
With every breath you take, you are dependent on foliage to provide it for you.
Oh but that greenery also depends on soil and that soil depends on the nutrients.
And it all follows a certain cycle.
So what are your vital organs?
The lungs or the trees?
Maybe it's your brain, or better yet, it's your heart?
In the same way, because we are destroying our environment,
we are destroying ourselves.
So where does the violence begin?
It begins WITHIN.
It begins because we are all confused beings.
We are all blind to the important things.
We try to cling on to what we feel as real,
but when lose sight of what is really true.
And that is hard for me to say.
What is true?
But as I said before I am who I am.
And we are who we are.
Lets not miss the point this time.
Some say the point is love.
I have a hard time believing that.
I heard once that love isn't anything but a lost control.
And now I understand.
I lost my control.
And she just keeps on keeping on.
As if nothing even happened.
As if the love was never there.
I thought it was part of the eternal
and that love never faded.
I am a sucker and a fool for thinking that I found love.
I fooled myself into thinking that love was the point.
So what is the point?
I felt like this poem
of sloppily strung together words
would provide me my insight.
I was wrong. I have no idea
what the point is.
But yet I marvel about life,
my existence, my death,
my emotions, my thinking,
my failure, my success,
my truth, my deception,
my love, my hate,
my attachments, my detachments.
People, self-identity, love, dependency, violence.
This is being human.
I am who I am.
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