In Omnipotence

Well I have been true to myself, not only blogging, but sifting through the bits, and planning. The place that I have been lead to, has caused a lot of self reflection. I have come to the conclusion that I want to make my mark in the world. I also have a huge drive to find out more about my family and am going on a hunt for information. This weekend I am going to London to find where my great grandmother is buried. Wish me luck. As I mentioned in yesterdays blog I feel these ebbs and flows of drive and creativity and they always seem to leave me with unfinished business, so before I can truly move forward I must go back. As I began to review my old tid bits I found a bit of poetry that I wrote quite some time ago, but the feelings I had when I wrote it are strong. The drive and determination it gave me while I wrote it are still present in my head and heart. As I reviewed it today, I noticed that even though I am the author of this poem I felt like I read more into it this time than I did when I first wrote it. How is that possible?
No matter what it is that we read, view, or experience. The how of what we take from it, and where we find meaning are totally, and completely, dependent on the person and their position in life. In music, one person in a happy relationship will find a song's lyrics to be a lovely ballad, while a person in a tumultuous relationship may take the same lyric's to signal change, and yet to another person just coming out of a bad relationship, those same lyric's could be a lament, or painful.
I am going to publish here a poem of mine. I remember writing it. At the time I was filled with pain, and anguish. It was not over a personal matter. I was tortured by the thought of some of the violence, and suffering, I had been seeing children all over the world going through, and I felt helpless to make any changes.
Now as I read the poem tonight, it gave me a feeling of enlightenment, hope and encouragement. Even though I remember how I felt when I wrote it, I have totally different feelings about the poem. Which leads me to believe that a theory I have about mental illness is more correct than incorrect. (I will have to add this to my project list for next Sunday.)
Give the poem a read, leave a comment and let me know how the poem made you feel.

And shattered dreams may be cliché.

Then why do the hammers go on their sprees of shattering?

To eat and breathe are not enough,

not enough for me.

For such a meek existence is to suffocate my soul;

drowning in mediocrity.

Life’s dreams so unattainable,

the fault is so unknown.

To strive and struggle;

to not achieve.

A sorrow upon me so great.

A boulder of need versus true living.

Beaks squawking to be fed;

a million tons of food that dreams cannot buy,

Only mediocrity and normalcy.

Upon a deathbed with no remorse my creativity will abound;

and in the heavens will then I see, my dreams mended, where only the lord, who has no need, can lay his eyes upon it.

In Omnipotence neither here nor there.

Does it matter what one wants?

To really love with passion.

To assign ones time to life,

with others not burrow into one self.

Is one, one at all?

Or many…

Others creeping from the past,

the vast valley of knowledge, create light not shadow.

Hate not love keeps things turning,

and one self yearning.

Loves wishy-washy permissiveness,

allows for quiet retreat.

Hate of oppression, shame, and poverty, keeps the capitalists earning

Not love for those they are providing for.

Love allows; hate prevents

How to use them…

you must reflect? 

Good night