I wonder if I am who I am, or at least who I think I am.
I wonder at what I am, at my self, is it the same as I perceive it from this vantage-point?
It all looks good from this side of the eyes, but how would I define good to justify an object I sight? What is the criteria for good? Or at least being allowed to exist in this macrocosm of chaotic principles?
Why am I here and what is the true image that represents my existence. Is it that which I see with these eyes that are deceiving to the extent of seeing what they wish to see and passing over the rest, or, what others at least claim to see and no one has the truth to what has been seen.
Relying on another individual is as fatal as relying on yourself. You trust another person with your truth, lies, secrets, fears, hopes, pains, joys, loves, hates and your life. in short, you have just given another mortal the capacity to take your life away without any justification.
But what of life itself? Is it as beautiful and complete as we see it? Or is it a mere pigment of our collective imaginations. Beauty lies in the eye of the beholder. What I find appealing in this world could be just as repulsive to the person next to me. He might even be thinking of a plan to get rid of me this very instant, while counting the number of times I inhale and exhale, hoping each time that the next would be the last. I might be the most repulsive thing in this universe as he sees it and the person behind him may simply want to protect me with the lives of a hundred men.
This difference of opinion baffles me at times. If humans are all the same, and each one of them deserves to survive, then why this difference of opinion and why this policing across the globe. Let all that can be let loose; be loose to see how long this blood bath lasts before all is quiet on this front and those beyond it.
Is this world we live in really something that is the way it is seen or just another perception that has blinded our eyes. Bound by the self-made laws of physics and mathematics, we proudly celebrate our so called successes and forget why strive to make a breakthrough that will do nothing but add to the ocean of troubles that are already closing in on our lands. The problem is that we keep defining laws for ourselves of which we do not know the actual strength. All of these are mere limitations on our own imagination, in our own little worlds.
We have a great world a head of us, or is it another of those ideas we dare to conjure up in order to feel powerful. We describe it in our own particular way to make people see what we want them to see. And for those who dare to differ, are attacked by accusations and branded heretics.
Since the day crimes were defined, man found purpose to commit them, an expression of being free and beyond any authority. The minute we make our wealth so important as to cry when it is removed from our possession, we allow thieves to steal from us. If we only shared enough with others as to be equal with them, there would be no thief, no theft and no grief, no sorrow and no purpose.