Sunday

Confessions of a Soul.

Things are beautiful.

I've always admired things.

Ideas, a sunset, the clouds, rain, the ocean, lightning, the list goes on.

Recently I've discovered I have no interest in people. They wander, and they make a mess of the beauty that resides on the earth.

Imagine, if you will, a great hall. Something made by man, and how it decays. There is, I think, nothing more beautiful than that which returns to nature. The cosmos and cosmic dust from where it came.


I have no interest in people. They bore me; and they are decidedly NOT beautiful. 

The beauty I admire is in inanimate objects. Like I said, an idea or a sunrise.

Heck, I used to think women were beautiful until I found out they were people too. Too bad. So close, and yet I return my thoughts to the spray of the sea as it crashes against a magestic rocky cliff overlooking the sea as the sun sets.


Yes, the beauty that is, and that does not want.

Beauty is a state of not wanting. It is a state of never having been alive to know what wanting is.


When alive, we want this or that, we can never just be. It's not in our nature. 


If we were to just "be", we'd probably starve to death. What an existence.

My favorite times are when I am looking at the sky or the rain coming down. Any time I watch in sheer amazement at nature unfolding as it does.

I despise eating.

I want to be able to exist without having to maintain said existence. I want to be like rain, which simply occurs. Why can't I just be an occurrence?

Now I respect all opinions, and I'm sure there are some opinions that disagree with mine or even can't respect it.

I wonder, then, why I should even respect opinions when those opinions don't respect me?

Isn't it the truest form of self-DISrespect to respect an opinion that doesn't respect you simply because... well, simply because you feel you should.



I can't respect anything 
That needs me to respect it to be respectable.

I can't accept anything 
That needs me to accept it to be acceptable.

I can't believe in anything 
That needs me to believe in it to be believable. 

I can't believe that something exists 
If that thing needs me to believe it exists.


I am 180 degrees out of phase with most everyone I've ever met. Even those that can understand me are still not where I'm at.

I wonder if this is the natural state of the human soul?

I wonder, when we strip everything away from the external world,  if we still feel a need to belong. Or do we simply feel disappointment?

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