Life of endless possibilities

"It came to me when I attempted to classify your species, and I realised that you are not actually mammals. You see, every mammal establishes a natural equilibrium with its natural habitat. But you humans do not...you habitate one area and consume all the natural resources before spreading to another area...

There is another creature that does this: Do you know what it is? A virus. You humans are a cancer of this planet, you are a plague..."
Agent Smith

Go, Smith! We're shit aren't we? Everybody should just stop having children, stop consuming, and stop destroying. The world's totally overpopulated, and people still wanna have more kids. I don't get it. If ppl stop having kids and just spend the money they would have spent on said kids on those poor children from undeveloped places, I think this world would be a better place.

Wanted to create a list of things to do before I die, but got stuck at item one.

Considered shaving my head, calling this guy I liked, visiting a nudist beach, playing with a band outside of church, travelling, starting a photographic journal, writing out my family's history etc. But not one of them made it to the list. Coz each time I asked if it really mattered, the answer was no.

There are things that I hope to achieve in this life, things I want to try, but if I were to leave this world for another now, I think I will do so with no regrets, no worries.

I think I should be glad. I am glad.

Love

Because of you, in gardens of blossoming flowers I ache
from the perfumes of spring.

I have forgotten your face, I no longer remember your hands;
how did your lips feel on mine?

Because of you, I love the white statues drowsing in the parks,
the white statues that have neither voice or sight.

I have forgotten your voice, your happy voice;
I have forgotten your eyes.

Like a flower to its perfume, I am bound to my vague memory of you.
I live with pain that is like a wound; if you touch me,
you will do me irreparable harm.

Your caresses enfold me, like climbing vines on melancholy walls.

I have forgotten your love, yet I seem to glimpse you in every window.

Because of you, the heady perfumes of summer pain me;
because of you, I again seek out the signs that precipitate desires:
shooting stars, falling objects.

Pablo Neruda (1904-1973)

Musings of a Fool

Never thought that it'd be this way
A part of you came, and stayed
Like perfume that lingers after you're gone

That tune in my head screams
It shouts of a mark, your mark
It will not be erased

Never thought that I'd be changed
By this wind that blows so strangely
If I knew how to fly, would I have let it carry me away?

I wonder how
I wonder why
But the wonderings of a fool can only end in a sigh

I want to believe that the spiritual experiences in my life are there because of something. Some big factor that I can accept, like God. But if it had involved psyching myself up, then they seem somehow tainted. False. But are they? A friend told me it's ok if we do it for the right purpose. Everyone psyche themselves up one way or another. In the office, at home, in the sports field. And indeed if by my own devices, I probably wouldn't even want to psyche myself for spiritual purposes. So the fact that I did, points to Him, or does it?

The journey is more important than the destination. The process more than the result. If the means is wrong, the end can never be right. How could it? I don't seem to know anything for sure anymore.

But does it really matter? What has passed, belongs to the past. Time to look forward, and let there be faith to believe and hope to carry on.