OF MUD AND CLAY

In a world so full of itself, we don't know what tommorow has to offer. People so full of themselves, there's rarely any help that needs to be given. In a complicated world of just people and people only, beauty has faded. We believe we are sophisticated, we are not. We are nothing we assume to be. We are just made of clay, a splash of water is enough to break us down to the ground. The wrong we do is that we assume we have power. We assume there's power in being made of clay, that there's nothing more solid. What lies within, what lies outside? Questions don't matter now. Beauty is unconditional. Beauty lies in the soggy clay that slips from your hands, that can be made rock solid all over again. Beauty lies in the way the cold clay feels, in the way the ocean will wipe down your feet. Beauty is not sophisticated. We have become so inhumane that we now define beauty. Beauty lies in words, in my verses. Verses that have the power to question, question what really matters? Is it the clay or the water that breaks yet moulds the clay?

In a sophisticated world, become simple. As simple as words that are in poetry. In a sophisticated world, become free. In a sophisticated world, walk naked with your black heart. Feel nothing now, just as I do as I pen this down. Be as simple as mere words on a piece of paper.

Feel the rain, dropping on your face and onto your lips. Soak yourself wet and let yourself break. Merge with the ocean, merge with the sunset. Merge with simplicity. Beauty lies only for those who can see in the dark, who hear when there's nothing spoken, who dance when there's sorrow.