Where do you go when you lose yourself?
Where do I go? And who goes, who stays?
Does it just fade away and stay inside of you, or does it disappear?
I imagine there are stars. Lots of little, glowing stars. Inside me.
Sometimes a star fades, very slowly. It gets darker and darker, until eventually you don't see it anymore. Dies. Disappears.
Sometimes a star falls down. Can't hold where it is, doesn't want to be there anymore. Falling. At high speed, it falls down, burning as it lights up and finally comes up with a loud bang. Rips everything around it. Gives me a stomachache. It burns after it for a while before its light goes out. It crumbles to dust, leaving only this big bump.
Some stars burn forever. Full of hope and joy. Shine as brightly as they can. Sparkle. And stay with you all your life. Even in the dark times.
Some stars are reborn in the course of your life. They glow at first timidly. Then they shine stronger and stronger. With so much energy they almost outperform the other stars.
That's the process inside you. Some die, some stay, some are reborn. The cycle of life.
But what happens when everything happens so fast that you get lost in it? Too much dies. Leaves you. With that empty, uncomfortable feeling.
The truth is. Nothing.
Nothing happens. You will not fall, you will not die, you will not disappear, you will not fade.
The Earth spins incessantly. It doesn't care whether stars fall or are reborn. It doesn't make friends with those who seem to last forever. Everything is fleeting. So even the last star, however bright and iridescent, will fade.
Time does not stand still. Never. The clock ticks, the world spins, new life is born, old life says goodbye.
And you, you get lost. In the running time.
Maybe that's normal. Life. The constant search for oneself. For the meaning.
But when does it show up? And do you notice it? Does it yell at you? Or does it just whisper softly in your ear?
Maybe you just have to listen well enough. Maybe it's always there. All our lives. Right from the start.
Maybe we've just overheard it so far. In the too loud crowd.
Maybe you don't have to listen anymore, you already know it. It's just drowning in the fast pace of our society. Or maybe you don't hear it on purpose. Because it would be too easy.
It gives us a purpose. It drives us. The search for meaning in life.
Who said it existed anyway? What if it doesn't exist any more than Peter Pan or Lilly Fee?
"To be or not to be, that is the question."
But there's never been an answer to that poetic quote. There's never going to be answers to poetry. It's just thought-provoking. And it raises even more questions.
Poetry is for thinkers. You can't make sense out of poetry.
If you want to get smart, read a science book, memorize the Duden, go to school.
There are so many answers there. Just to the wrong questions.
There is no answer to what we really want to know.
So let's stop worrying about this.
Because with your head broken, you can't think of it anymore.
YOU ARE READING
Plucky Thoughtfullness
PoetryIn the world we live in, thoughts get lost. Not because they want to disappear, but because we're too afraid to think them. Some are naughty, some forbidden, some simply unwanted. We don't want to think them. We can't. We don't have the time to. We'...
