Left Back On Intentions.

How can one person be so ungrateful to all that has ever been said or done for? I have been nothing but nice. I am always the person with the most humility, and no care for material possessions. I have offered the most I can. Yet be treated back with such little appreciation, in fact complete isolation. I am angry, and upset to be treated this way. I wish everything for the very best to happen but probably been gossiped back in return with false accusations. I pray karma satisfy my vengeance.

Pissed.

Fucking mad of the all that is. The fact of imperfection is eating me out. Everything is being scrutinized to its finest detail. I want to exist elsewhere. I want all to end and to begin anew. Let this warfare win with the deserving change. For fucks sake.

Oil, Should Lack Ripples.

A lamp of oil held by the left hand shall symbolize peace of the state of mind and heart.

A sun held by the right hand shall symbolize the size of passions in life.

For one to obtain serenity in one's soul, one must always keep that lamp steady in the left hand of one's heart. No pressure of mind, or emotions, shall be granted a chance to affect the firm grip of that positioned hand. The hand simply must not move.

The sun pictured passion in one's life shall be attended to closely with both eyes on its size. If the passion grows overwhelmingly, its fire may catch the lamp filled oil which would be grave even to the imagination.

All shall be kept consistently, carefully, and most important lovingly. It is not a chore, nor a duty, merely a will from a choice made.

- The Hidden Words of Bahá’u’lláh

"Whither can a lover go but to the land of his beloved? And what seeker findeth rest away from his heart's desire? To the true lover reunion is life, and separation is death. His breast is void of patience and his heart hath no peace. A myriad lives he would forsake to hasten to the abode of his beloved."

Scrunched, and Coiled.

To think that change should be welcome is an idea supported for years. However now, realizing that change does nothing but destroys everything worked for, all to bring about a new flow of creative paths and opportunities. It is difficult to be a tree. With the wind blowing hard from both directions yet she remains there, sturdy, never backing a defeat. Never doing another's influence, or listen the telling of others. Many a times we're told that perfection lies within, and that imperfection is but an imagination. Perhaps the disbelief comes from believing it otherwise.

Honest Reaction.

In a dark room, with no escape. Light centered up the ceiling flickers ever so often. The one who resides know darkness consumes with no attention to anything but itself. How shall living be carried out in such a reality? It is no wonder the only wonder ever had is for a reason. The reason believe to be courage. How can one attain a knowledge, a revelation, call it whatever you may, a power that brings forth much courage to put darkness to its very end. Should one envy the obtained gift that isn't owned?

Hopes are not set for people to understand. We come as we are, and so we leave, too. 

Thumping The Thuds.

Tapping the slight spaces between leaves of browns, causing growths beyond physicality in the deepest of grey. Child may wander between the folds of a curtain, partly drawn, partial pretense that light is imminent, from a distance to act out a dance. To maintain the field of creativity at ones' own expense.

As such as my world is now.