Satisfying Dream

At first I believed the world a random place, my life ruled by chance. But such a scary philosophy, I could not maintain. Then a passive existence I believed, a pathway predetermined, unalterable. But such submissiveness I could not bear. Then I began to see life as a lucid dream, my mind’s designs manifesting in every moment. This was satisfying.

The mind must find a resting place, a foundation upon which to build. If it sits in shifting sand, nothing lasting can be built. This bedrock comes from a firm idea in which to place one’s faith. I had faith in randomness, but its nature was unstable. I had faith in predestination, but it did not suit. So now I invest in dreams, a nebulous source that’s surprisingly solid.

A hazy nature provides strength as it conforms to each situation. Anything unpleasant simply serves as reminder to mind my thoughts. Whatever happens is my own fault, but in a funny way. I work at shaping rumination lest I get what I don’t desire. What I wish should come to be, but if not, I’ve merely more minding to do.

Whether true it matters not, it simply serves as satisfying base from which to run. A mind must have easy answers to complex questions else it go round and round in constant quandary. What ease it is to explain every scene as mere mirage. And with haunting angst now exorcised, the joys of life reveal themselves. Nightmares become delightmares.

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Dawn of Enlightenment

Jagged edges distort my view.
Thus I polish roughness with repetition.
As I shine, my source beams through.

A creator playing amongst his parts.
Trinity of author, actor, and audience.
Power surges from regular remembrance.

While in character, forgetfulness reigns.
Self-imposed fog blinds and binds.
Roots buried beneath a mirage.

Only when pausing, do I perceive.
I am no pawn to be played.
I am the programmer.

Shining Through

Jagged edges distort my view,
so I polish the roughness with repetition.
The more I shine, the more light beams through.

I see my source, the designer within —
a creator playing amongst pieces of myself.
Power surges from frequent realization.

What a marvelous world I’ve made,
a playground given to me by me.
Nothing is, but what I willed it to be.

Self-imposed fog keeps me blinded,
my roots tucked below a superficial surface.
While performing in character, I readily forget.

Upon stilling my mind, I remember —
I am no mere pawn to be played, but the programmer.
I only realize when I pause to perceive.

There is no frailty ‘cept that which I playfully portray.
I am the definer of strength — both author and audience.
Swimming amidst shallows, I need only stand.

Evoking Power

Alone atop a self-made world, an infinite being sat.
For the fun of it, he split himself into near-infinite shards,
each one reflecting a particular perspective.

I am one such perspective, a broken jagged-edged piece.
My roughness distorts whatever I see.
So I polish the pitted surface which is me.

The more I shine, the brighter I become.
I see the light which lies before me.
I sense the source from which I came.

Power surges from frequent realization of my origin.
I am the creator playing amongst parts of myself.
What a marvelous world I’ve made.

Within this playground for the pieces of me,
I laugh at all the silly things I’ve spawned.
Nothing is but what I willed it to be.

I even trick myself not to see beyond the mirage.
Roots tucked below a superficial surface.
While performing in character, I readily forget.

Upon stilling my mind, I remember.
I am not a mere pawn to be played, but the programmer.
So skilled I only realize when I pause to perceive.

Life is a gift given to me by me for my own amusement.
There is no weakness ‘cept that which I playfully portray.
I am the definer of strength itself.

This is my narrative to silence fear and frailty.
I am both art and artist, audience and author.
Swimming amidst shallows, I need only stand.

Wacky World

I wanted to take this life seriously,
believing in the integrity of solidity,
honoring its physical majesty,
but the world has shown itself a joke.

And so I recommend to myself and all,
to treat it as such: a lighthearted affair.
For there is no other recourse,
if we are to keep our sanity.

This is not a cruel joke mind you,
not a trick meant to humiliate.
Just a funhouse built for surprise,
merely a stage to entice the senses.

Hunting the Hunter

What we fear is a shadow creature of our own design. Conjured from conjecture, we give it power to frighten. Yet we can hunt this shadow beast and slay it through a realization of its fictional nature.

It is a phantasm, a sprite borne of our imagination that perishes without upkeep. To ignore, is to invoke decay. And to fully dismantle the fabricated foundation of faulty logic upon which it lies, we shine a light too bright to deny.

When we stop running and become still, the shadow stops — as any shadow would. Only when we flee does the fiend seemingly chase. Yet it’s merely our thoughts that make it so. Discard the thought — it dies.

We must not actively pursue, lest the shadow continue existing, moving in the opposite direction as prey. The shadow must be illuminated out of existence. Let there be light, and know that it is good.