What if for a bit, think of steps as glyphs which trace on to the sand, all tensions that are felt as you search grace inside a mace
I imagine what it would be like to be stranded alone on an island.
I'd soon have to find something to write on; right after I build myself a shelter and find some drinking water.
It makes me think about the world in which we live today.
A place where anyone can instantly broadcast their innermost thoughts to the entire world.
A place where the richest man on the planet has dedicated his life to building toilets for the poor
With the full support of the next richest guy to ever walk the planet. Warren Buffet.
Do you want to be uplifted? And simultaneously shaken from limiting believes? Take a look at the work of Bill & Melinda Gates.
I can't make peace with those who do nothing but complain, while they claim their actions to be rooted on compassion.
Part of me just wants to strangle you.
I can't find the empathy, and that's a sign of my own insufficiencies and tendency towards ideology.
I understand the perverse allure of negative emotion, they certainly have no lack of material to write about.
But the real pain is not found in unwillingness to see and act on the good; but on the courage to fully trust those who will undoubtedly betray and hurt us the most.
So, today I want to imagine myself stranded, alone on an island. And under those conditions I want to find a way to lead a meaningful life.
The assumption is that there are other people who are also stranded and out of sight which may receive my messages
And maybe, they will even write me back.
That also made me think about the dangers of opening a letter that came from a stranger. Because the contents could be fully traumatizing.
If I am sending a message that could potentially reach someone else who is also stranded, what would write? What would add value to him or her?
How would give the most given the limited amount of writing materials (if any) and the fact that most messages might never reach
If I am casting bottles in to the ocean, my only chance is to strive for quantity and forgo pretentions of perfection.
How much of me would be afraid, of the judgment of a stranger who I have never met?
Maybe that is what poetry was made for. To spread out and communicate the beauty that is seen through one pair of eyes.
If a person would only get that single message, I would wanted it to be fun and and fulfilling to their soul. Something a prayer or a Mantra to keep them sane
I also thought it would be to cool to constrain the poem into a near-perfect hexagon that would force me to change words around.
Hope you enjoyed this poem and that the added rant was not all too annoying.