[ART/PSYCH] Send me all your money [spoiler alert]

[12RelayT10]

After saving the planet for 1001 times, i think it will be easier to get a lot of money. Why not? I think the best place for money to stay, is in my pocket.

Finding the object was easy, knowing its origin much more difficult.

Sometimes, things come up, or you think about a question someone asked. After some reflection, you come up with an idea, and I want to share that idea, probably, or as a reminder to myself, Maybe.




PASSING PLACE


I’m planning to do something, or maybe not?

Perhaps yes, perhaps no.

A mysterious journey, or maybe not?

Perhaps yes, perhaps no.

I don’t quite know what, or maybe not?

Who’s to say what’s real.

It’s all a surprise, or maybe not?

Could be, could not be.

Where it ends, or maybe not?

Maybe everything, maybe nothing.

Everyone is welcome, or maybe not?

It’s both true and false at once.

Start the adventure, or maybe not?

Who can truly decide.

Discover together, or maybe not?

Proceed with caution, or perhaps just...


STOP?






FREEDOM IN CHAINS


I swim against the flow with grace,

Returning home to my birthplace.

Guided by senses to help me find,

The path that's written in my mind.

My life is short, a fleeting spark,

Compared to oceans, vast and dark.

Yet in this cycle, I belong,

Part of nature’s endless song.

I swim and wonder, hope and try,

To understand, the endless sky,

Currents,

Waves,

Life,

The grand design.

For in this journey, my true self I see,

An endless voyage to become...

Free?

 

[Kepler]

The River Duddon
XIX The Stepping-Stones

The struggling Rill insensibly is grown
Into a Brook of loud and stately march,
Crossed ever and anon by plank or arch;
And, for like use, lo! what might seem a zone
Chosen for ornament, stone matched with stone
In studied symmetry, with interspace
For the clear waters to pursue their race
Without restraint. How swiftly have they flown,
Succeeding, still succeeding! Here the Child
Puts, when the high-swoln Flood runs fierce and wild,
His budding courage to the proof; and here
Declining Manhood learns to note the sly
And sure encroachments of infirmity,
Thinking how fast time runs, life's end how near!

• William Wordsworth

The lyrics, just like loot, come in stacks and rolls

To continue on.

 

[12RelayT10]

THIS IS THE PLACE


I prefer to dwell on gentle things,
On hopes and dreams, on what life brings.
Words falter, struggling to find form,
Questions swirl, quiet and warm.

What am I doing here, I ask,
To help, to learn, or wear a mask?
My initial thought, help with voice,
To share opinions, make a choice.

But knowing others, their true core,
Requires time, and so much more.
The other's truth, their honest plea,
Takes energy, patience, humility.

I've longed for a teacher great,
A guiding light, a destined fate.
Silent sages, whispers rare,
Taught me to read when none are there.

They said, read when you're last on Earth,
Yet mock my art, diminish my worth,
Claim I am not human, just a ghost passing by,
For in darkness, I will search for my reply.

Dark times came, betrayal’s sting,
My own people, what did they bring?
Silenced voices, guns that speak,
What is human? What do we seek?

One week later, a shift, a change,
From a year to just a week, strange.
What once took time, now is quick,
Memory’s trick, or just a flick?

Perhaps my past lives were lowly born,
Unable to read, to write, forlorn.
Yet beauty in what I see around,
Music, art, nature’s sound,
Conversations, honest and profound.

THE OFFICIAL AND THE STRAY


Upon the wings of night’s dark crow,
A secret flight begins to flow,
Always catching what fate bestows,
In shadows where the unknown grows.

Within this shadowed domain,
A peasant’s voice begins again,
Not bound by official hand,
Nor ink that charts the sailor’s land.

In journals kept with disciplined hand,
The officers did understand,
Recorded voyages, wind, and tide,
A sacred script that none deride.

But crows take flight, beyond the sight,
Of vessel, storm, and shining star,
In the realm where shadows play,
The official and the stray.

Post automatically merged: Tuesday at 11:18 AM

THE HIDDEN


In my youth, the question began,
A core that’s never fully revealed,
A lack that no one can remove,
A secret quietly dwelling within me.

I made a decision to avoid,
Love, friendship, all to escape,
For I feel I am not complete,
And that the world cannot be feared by me.

I sought ways to impress,
In the kitchen, in the digital realm,
But my efforts remained empty,
An emptiness that can never be filled.

Money became my refuge, my last hope,
Until I fell into darkness,
The world disappeared, the voices died,
I was trapped within my own shadow.

The truth came as a heavenly light,
A spark of faith, a leap of spirit,
But no one listened, no one saw,
And I remained behind, in silence.

A forum offered a part of my soul,
A hope for connection, a glimmer of light,
Until the moment everything vanished,
And I was left alone again.

Why the pain? The loneliness?
Why the cracks in my soul?
The ground is far away, the view vague,
And help seems distant, an unreachable axis.

What am I?
A question without an answer,
A core that’s never fully told,
A riddle in the shadow of the self,
A mystery that remains unrevealed.

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