My soul is just born, swirling through this world picking up filth
Evolving, growing, burning until one day when my body erodes
It will either fade away or it will expand like a supernova burning out in the abyss until a thousand children stare up in the sky and wonder where those flickers of light come from.
Yet I feel as though my soul has been this age for ever.
I do not quarry with it anymore. I do not flee its fire or question its existence or perhaps a better way of saying it would be that I do not need to understand the questions of its existence. It simply is, and if it is nothing at all, then that is what it is.
I am contented in the fact that these mere 18 years do not contain my soul in a feeble sense of 'young'. I am a creation of experience. The work of beautiful men and strong women, I am moulded, sculpted and brought into being by no other hands but my own.
I have breathed the air of many cites and many souls.
Perhaps I have known more that I have comprehended or perhaps I comprehend far less than I know.
But now for films and friends and pleasures and that's all I can really know in this odd mortal container that I know so intimately.
One day this might be foolish
One day I might know more, or less.
And that's just fine.
I am contented in the fact that these mere 18 years do not contain my soul in a feeble sense of 'young'. I am a creation of experience. The work of beautiful men and strong women, I am moulded, sculpted and brought into being by no other hands but my own.
I have breathed the air of many cites and many souls.
Perhaps I have known more that I have comprehended or perhaps I comprehend far less than I know.
But now for films and friends and pleasures and that's all I can really know in this odd mortal container that I know so intimately.
One day this might be foolish
One day I might know more, or less.
And that's just fine.
No comments:
Post a Comment