By Rebel Jones
As I lie awake here in a state of pain and Sweating profusely from an overthinking anxiety ridden brain, a loud thought within begins saying "The greats never die they just become what they love the most as they are soaked into whatever their passions had been." This internal voice that speaks to me continues… "The poet becomes a poem that lasts for eternity in words never again placed in such a beautifully perfect way, The musician becomes a song only heard upon the celestial realms, oh so heavenly. The painter becomes a sight of perfection, A Divine paint splattered creation of beauty spread across a star clustered universe." As my minds eye drifts amidst a new plane of thought, it's different here, like a Birdseye view of the entire world we live, it's a humbling thought that puts me back in my place as a small minute piece of this happening called life, suddenly this pain I feel does not seem that great. These awakening thoughts that bleed wisdom upon my loose-leaf will travel through time and space as they are remembered not from a single poem written or thought by a singular human being but as words that have purpose to bring about some sort of needed change in this human experience, or experiment it's hard say these days. It feels as if we're tested daily in a game of maybe, Maybe some will starve this day, but worry not some will eat. Maybe some will freeze this night but worry not within your warmth as you sleep. A child cries for its mother who's dampened in red out in the cold heartless street as she bleeds and she bleeds until her heart no longer beats, So maybe that crying child puts on the same shoes from mothers feet or maybe that child will defy statistics and not accept such defeat. and yet another random thought drifts on by, but stops briefly to conversate, asking me "Have you ever?" Have I ever what? and then the thought just disappeared into the dark.
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