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This world This is a world full of uncertainty and ambitions, but the humanity still dwells between the doubt and the waiting. All the people ask who they are to everyone but to themselves. Thus, they forget they are equal to each other, and that it would be enough just to live in order to know what to exist and to live by mean Would it be fair to hurt someone else's feelings, to bring heartache inside of the one who you do not esteem at all, the ones who could impare your conquests? And, on the other hand, to do all the good things to the one who is a promise of your accomplished wishes, or to protect only the ones who are settled as your heirs, your legacy? How to live by the feelings that are beyond the reason? How to bear the weight of so many lives that haven't been introduced to each other yet, but that may sit side by side upon the same judgement chair, to be condemned for the same crimes, by the same pleas? How to demand honesty from the eyes which reflect the same treason of your own eyes? All of us have been a liar one day and have condemned a christian to the gallows , no matter how it may seem the reverse. How to show happiness when the equality is dying right here beside, pale due the dim hues of the humanity in an eternal fight against the world which knows one as everyone? We're all seeds from the same tree, like a wood of oak or a poplar tree forest which is born from the same mother-root; each leaf is us, each fall, each lost leaf gets into the sum upon the soil, but getting the root rotten, instead of getting the branches stronger with the new energy. The wind, rain and bad weather are felt in the same level, and all of those leaves protect themselves from the biggest damages and that turns them into something stronger than just the leaves that they are, away in the wind. They want the sun, all of them, under an equal need, and they receive the sunlight, they grow, together, and respect each other because they know the needs of each other. The fact of being leaves is not what equalizes them. But to be life from the same source does. Life come from the same lineage |
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Stalk, leaves, flowers, fruits, root and branches; all of them so unlike in importance, colors, behavior, utility, shape and beauty. Though, they are fed by the same source, they follow same destiny because they are life from the same origin. They'll all die together, if that source is scythed. They all perish even by the time, no matter how beautiful or how lousy, like the root under the ground. We just play the fools when we wish for something more, as long as everything passes in this life of ours. Just the equality survives. The same equality that we have tried to deny to ourselves in life, we will have at the final of it. This cannot be avoided, neither now nor then, never; although they still try to manipulate that status which we all are heading to: The end. And, would that root have life yet? After so much devastation? What if the leaves don't recognize themselves anymore, and thus they break; and the flowers unfasten in black and without scent, so that the fruits can't come to take their places; and the branches turn closed to high and do not stretch their sprouts just to take away from the stalk the place of the highest of the tree's top? Without form, without shade, without colors, without fruits, with no use... and, even so, finite. Everything is finite, no matter the inner battles, the strength or the weakness. But the time spent on that life was unique, it doesn't return. Then, that effort, all that energy, spent on something vain, on some finite short-living thing? That's it? Is that, just that? No, it hurts all and any principle, it hits against Lavoisier's Law, that says so: "The sum of the mass of the reactants equals the sum of the mass of the products after the reaction." Everything changes, but ends up being the same again. We are a cicle, a closed system, thus we cannot run from this factor: Fate. Like the rain water that changes into so many other states: physical, mixtures, compound elements... but, even after dwelling and being in different places and lives, it turns back to the source of its essence. Just like us, who are always following in different minds, different lives and fates which become in only one, there is no way for us to be another thing, there is no how not to be. Come what may, whatever changes it takes, unavoidable ones or not, whatever stages we may cross; and we may still think of us like a being unlike any other human being who has developed or withdrawn or stood up in the level he was; nothing of that matters, we are equal, and that is a given. There is no beginning of life, life does not show up, does not start from nothing, the same way it does not finish itself in nothing. The energy is not extinguished as long as this is a closed circuit. Recycling, what we do have in us is a recycling of energy that stronger or weak, lives in us, beings alike there are thousand of millions of years ago; and that will go on alike up to the breakin' up of this cicle, up to the moment when a tiny spark of that energy escapes and the circuit is broken into new shapes, perhaps purer, maybe less important, perhaps wilder; but, still, originated from the same first sum, the same amount from where it was come at first stage. So that, we are so: aware of all the conditions that gets the being in affliction, but, even so, unbelievers of ourselves. We are not able to admit that we would feel the pain in the toe if it was us who kicked the stone on the street where someone has been hurt the same. Just alike if we were the head in any situation, we would suffer the temptation of making "easier" and "smooth" the way for us more than for the other ones. 'Let everybody behind', the other ones who are ourselves, but that's amazing how we can't understand that so far... How the other ones seem to be so distant, so different inside of us. We are a pattern, we are mirror for the other ones to look back at and to follow, not only for our descendants, but an entire conglomerate that is use for generations. The culture from an age, of a people, is created during the times, along the days, from mouth to mouth; one staring at each other and being seen in return. A sentence comes up to my mind right now, a phrase that I have heard a long ago, from a person who has helped me out in some difficult subjects of my life. [[The one is always under the cares of the other ones]] That's so a given, that I dare saying, that is an actual truth which should be inside everyone like the air that is breathed. We are all a general responsibility, the life of one is under the cares of all the other ones. It is me who hires that someone who works for the wage, it is me who makes the bread that so many people will have as breakfast, it is me who teaches the first steps for that ones who still don't know how to walk, it is me who produces the electric power so that the light, the food, may be produced as well; so that the health care may operates to aid the life to go on. It is me also who causes the diseases, there is no how to protect the humanity from my bad habits, from my polluted air, from the water, contaminated by the hazard of my tons of gabarge; from the sickness due my irresponsibility at dealing with the food or the social services; from the death due the drinks or drugs; from the fights when the family tried to make me go straight again and everything ended up in those "called" tragedies. Everything caused by hands so alike, for same hands, the ours. Pain and joy, progress and brutality are in us like an indelible stain which reaches us out like a wave in the wide sea coming to the shore, without choice, and it comes back stronger, again and again, in our children, our grandchildren; up to the day when that cicle of our lives is finaly fulfilled. This closed circuit will be finished one day. The sun will be not in the sky for eternity; and that scares. Scares us all in equality, human beings in the need of the entire that we are together, of the sun, of the water, of the air, of the whole system, closed, secret, though so simple to understand. "We are all under the cares of the other ones". I have kept this sentence like a awakin' up for my soul. Don't allow yours to sleep while the time goes by. It is finite, but, perhaps, there is more than time when the circuit is broken. The tree can't be dead when that happens. We need that tree to see the sun rises again.? |
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