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Conundrum of existence

Conundrum – a confusing or difficult question (https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/conundrum)

The way smoke fades away
Reminds us of our same fate,
And still we play this game called life.

A deck of hearts and I’ll love you
Till I depart,
Till I float away and
We’re far apart.

Melting away like ice
In the day,
We go this way
And still our hearts sway.

In the windy times of life,
You depart only to arrive,
And the fact that you fell apart
Lends truth to the fact that you’re going to be ayt.

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So far gone

I sit back at times and think about it all at times, like how my life could possibly go.

One question I think about the most is what I do after tertiary. I by no means want a simple, straightforward life in the sense of working and then meeting somebody, getting married, having kids and then that’s me until I die. It is hard to explain for me but I’d like to adventure and seek new horizons. The fact that I have all these infatuations cannot deter me.

I often think about the world and I just get to thinking that there is only so much you can do in this life, and indeed this world, which brings me to wanting to be like Elon Musk who wants to pioneer space travel. I understand the dream and vision behind it and, if I was ever to become hugely successful, I would pursue such endeavors.

I often think about death as well because, what is more important than our mortality in life? The irony of it all is that death is what we use to justify life, the fact that we are here and will leave once our purpose is done gives us meaning. I think about death in the context of an afterlife where perhaps humanity doesn’t suffer and we reunite with our loved ones. I don’t necessarily believe in heaven but, I believe in an afterlife of some kind.

What more can be said  after death? Those left alive are left to speak of those departed and the opinions of spirit cannot reach us unfortunately. It seems there are such rules of disengagement in play or, to take the nihilist stance, death is really the full stop. What is life then, the question remains.

Rainy Days

Life is weird. What’s it like on the other side? Do we get to meet all our family and friends and live in utopia forever or do we just die and it’s like dreamless sleep?
Maybe it doesn’t serve any purpose for us to ask that question because, how does it affect your life? You’ll just keep living the way you have been but you’ll know what it means to die. Does that mean we’d have less fears about our mortality then? Could we accept death if we knew the fundamental truths about it?

Romantic

There’s a beautiful story in all of us waiting to be told. It traverses and consequently escapes the reality of life taking on a distinct dreaminess that’s akin to a pulchritudinous danger promising to overlook what the world sees and paint us over as a panoply of unimaginable beauty. It’s like touching the sky or dancing with the moon, seeing wolves howl or, watching a rose bloom, a mess of beauty and danger intertwined in a singular design which, viewed in the right light could, within moments, defy time. The irony. You’re just a temporary piece of forever, floating in, your own wondrous imperfection and cosmic insurmountability surrounded by a world that could be or not be of your own making, a diet of Matrix, numbers crackling in your design, and, enraptured hearts ache. Weary indecision. See I’ve thought about you in such a way as to derive a pleasure that is without form or sensibility, an eloquent dreamer, well versed and wondering at the limits of your agility, splitting me into infinite dreams ans here I am so lost and insignificant. Late nights spent awake, trying to recapture the frame for, I’m a broken mirror and my heart is just too bitter hoping you like pizza places could be contacted to deliver. Deliver, from me myself for I’m lost in a haze, dazed and disarray, stuck not knowing what is this phase, leaving you but funnily enough the , fact remains, that changing as we may change our , fickle minds is still inside and trapped, in our own ways. I die.

Slumber

We stop for a moment,
In human words we call it sleep.
Simply laying there weak,
Dreaming really deep.

Mind conjures thoughts,
Feelings play like shadows in the walls.,
I could be happier than in life,
Or more fearful in a nightmare of sorts.

Everything is possible,
I believe my own lies,
The world and agony is switched off,
I’ve cut all ties.

It’s only a placebo though,
Here you are and still awake.
It’s serenity to escape nightmares,
When leaving dreams it’s like mistakes.

Who knows what it means,
That we slumber as if we’re dead,
Find peace and then awake,
To find that life is waiting outside our bed.
Close my eyes.

Melancholic Musings

Came from being a baby,
And here I am as an adult.
I wonder about death on a daily,
As I traverse this life of tumult.

I feel feelings that are quite ineffable,
And speaks shallow words into being.
I dream with my eyes open,
I also dream when I’m asleep.

Quick to discover,
That days become nights.
On the worst and the best,
I get to wondering what is life.

I’m awake in sleep and dreams,
Eyes wide open in melancholy.
They say fear is the real death,
But I’ve never believed what they’ve told me.

Existence (Pop poetry)

E XI STE NCE!
So what, this is what they call life,
Stuck in a system, making all these decisons,
Never knowing if I’m right?
Stuck in a prison for the mental,
Contemplating who I am on most occasions
And feeling left out because with conversations I’m so basic?
Like, depression the ever pervading state of mind,
Stuck on a steep climb
To a summit that leads to nothing but the
Bittersweet assumptions of those long gone,
Sad AF but still wanting to keep mine?
Attached to a, morbid sense of self
Blinded by, a skewed sense of wealth
Where, my happiness is a sadness intermingled
With all kinds of substances for me to feel fine?
Like wine, Chardonnay, vodka and that market place ,
Smiling in all y’all faces . but deep down, I’m going insane?
Why didnt having it all make me happy,
Why didn’t the feeling of been at the epitome of existence make me above average?
Like busy af, tryna maintain
that lil bit of luck that
Amount to much and got me to know such and such,
And to a point can take a bite too much.
Of that pie and that real life, like taking the big slice,
It’s all mine.

Purpose

So many of us are within a life that we cannot look at with pride because of the various trappings we have inherent as well as the mistakes we have made. It really is a difficult time to really discover an otherworldly passion.

It is even harder to relate to reality, in my own personal view. I feel as if I am far more comfortable in the poetry of my consciousness than the physical that may or may not have been created by my sub consciousness. We choose what we believe and believe in what we choose. I just find it so hard to say to myself that my life should be spent in the pursuit of a fleeting happiness.

All I’m thinking as I write this is, what is my point? What is my purpose in writing this and if you really want to take it there , in life? One step further, the Universe, because if there is something in me that survives death, then that means more existence. Where is the finality in it all