Last night was amazing. Sitting outside the library taking a smoke break while studying for a quiz, the philosophising started. The studies, as you can imagine, went for a huge toss.
What is happiness? A state of bliss? Or a state where one is blinded to all that is real? For we blind ourselves to everything that may threaten our euphoria. Inevitably, this means blocking out everything that is real. So, it's just a euphemism for insanity. A state where one imagines for himself a world where all is good. "There's something right with the world today, but everybody knows it's wrong"....Aerosmith taken out of context make so much sense....
Depression and cynicism are the real truth aren't they? That's when you explore yourself, and the world around you, looking for what is truly real. Unless you are one of those people who would rather get out of the depression. The creative juices flow. You perceive things you wouldn't normally see. That's partly why the best creative acts are done when the artist is depressed, I guess.
Was it just a fiery dream
The night that seems so like a daydream
Swimming into a lake of sharks
Threatening to tear my life apart
Alone in the midst of lost crowds
Brain twisted, anger screaming to break out
White rats trapped inside a cage
An old man stuck inside a childish rage
No high seems to last, the vision's gone
Dull pain awaits passing beyond
Precipices invite to fall into arms
That scars of time seem to adorn
Delirious in poppy lands
Will now too weak to look behind
No last wish, no tears to cry
The old man plunges out of the mire
Laid to rest, eternal, sublime
Leaving remnants of a wasted life
Like blooming flowers in desert land
Oblivion all that's left behind
So he passes into the sea
Leaving behind him obscurity
Famed far and wide, folks wonder why
One so full could be so hollow inside
Did you ever wonder why you couldn't see
The crying soul, the hidden me
Or maybe never see what he perceives
Who goes beyond what the eye sees
And ventures into virgin lands
Where Sun is black and life a quicksand
Once there and back, yet there again
Taking last look to blood red sky
2 comments:
Take off your dark glasses and put on those rose ones. Its not happiness that is futility or insane. Its the ideas attahced to happiness that emanate more from others than from within. The search for happiness is never ending agreed. But that doesnt mean that it is meaningless. People go wrong in labelling what happiness means to them. Its amusing (or maybe thats the wrong word in the context) to see people chasing after things that stare them in their face.
The poem was good.
"...Unless you are one of those people who would rather get out of the depression..."
You make it sound like a crime man - getting out of depression.
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