Poem - 01 - I'd rather mess it up than keep you in a box

I remember times when we talked for the pure joy of talking to each other. We shared, laughed and cried. We spoke of anything our hearts desired. Mostly it was pure spontaneity, spoken raw. It's lead us to the uncharted and in this uncharted we were discoverers of each other. 

 Those were beautiful days and my heart still brightens in recollection.

 Now; it feels tedious to converse with another. Perhaps my wounded aspect speaks? Perhaps there is a massive break in how we speak with each other?

 How much of our conversations are filtered through addictive defensive layers or laced with agendas? It's become thought out and structured; I must tell you this for these reasons, here is my shrouded agenda, or here is an article, post or video that you should see. It will help you. Yet never set you free! 

 Have most of our conversations become preconceived, pre-planned and fixed out of fluidity?

 Have we all become each others projects, projecting our shit onto each other? Where are the days of us speaking in joy for the sake of joy? Speaking for the sake of wanting to connect and share as we rediscover each other? Making a joke for the sake of having someone to laugh with?

Now it's all comments, shares and likes. How many of us would pick up the phone in joy when our loved one call us? 

There are so many of you I desire to speak with. Yet when I mention this, I feel your guarded silence. 

I've connected more with posts than with the authentic, raw and the mess of a spur of the moment interaction. 

It may feel safer, yet this safety comes at the price of a box. And that is what I've come to know you all as. 

Pre-planned, life becomes stale. It's meant to be present, in the moment and in its authenticity, it is raw, ripe and yearning to be expressed.

Unplanned, unexpected authenticity enlivens us. It is unguarded, unfiltered and therefore raw. It leaves us in a spin that can be fright or delight. It leads to the uncharted and in this uncharted we discoverer of each other again. 

I'd rather mess it up with any of you, than keep you in a safe box.  

By Sven Selle