Metaphoric Allusions Build Walls

Life.

Life is nature. Life is what brings us joy, and sadness. One adventure ends as another begins. Life is what brings us together. We thrive to understand, and to be understood. We succeed where we fail, we fail where we proceed. Being ambiguous is easy, being clear is natural. How have we become who we are? Desire, flaw, temptation. We are complicated, God sees us simply. We learn, we fall, we fly. Not necessarily in that order, but effectively. Nonetheless. No anaphora fits any scene. Frequently I stop and ponder. Many times I ponder, then move. Thought ties connections, but without others the web remains dangled. We are so different, we are all one, but unique. Unbalanced we strive, but young blossoms we are, we see no sunlight. Our buds yet to burst. We know the light is there. We can feel it, but the fog blots the sky. We built the fog. We travel the road, we carry the fire, we are desperate. For whom? For what.

How come? We love. We know. We feel. We escape, finding ourselves at a new level. A sorry level. We wish for better, not knowing what we have. We drag. We pull, we carry. Sometimes we run, never stopping for breath. We want to get away. From ourselves. Masochists know the unreality of it. We created who we are, yet to desire to escape? We are imperfect. We find pride where regret should be. We refuse, because we dream. We dream, because it's all we can do. That is false. We work, we strive. But then we fall. Fall with the ground beneath us. We don't want to be caught. Our hearts say likewise. We wish for strength to move alone, but God knows we are weak. Only ambitious with no end, the end near.

Who are we? We know who we are, but we wish we did. We misunderstand. Trials come from us. All comes from within. We know not of ourselves. It takes another to teach. A mind only works when open. An open door, another opportunity. We grant every wish a potential by reaching.

Then we stand. We feel anew again. Blood rushes back to our feet, and so we run once more. We run home. Every down has an upward movement. A glance, and we're back. We paint the big picture. Too much time spent on details unworthy. Each stroke is a piece of who we are. The paint glistens and lights up the fog. Fresh and untempered. Unhampered. We focus ahead with intensity, the ocean carried in our eyes. Deep, immovable. Firm in principle. The wall has risen. The energy of the worlds unknown creates a vast impossibility of possibilities. We push, we move, we strive.

In life, we do have our ups and downs. But it's only in the moment that we suffer. I've learned that by focusing on the long run, I can pull through. Imagine riding your bike backwards, as though you can't get enough of what's behind you. You cannot progress no matter how hard you try. Focus on the path ahead. Every roller coaster is terrifying on the way down, but always the train slows down and peaks once again. As we go down, we learn about ourselves. Only a suffered poet can write. Only a trialed person can grow. Knowledge is growth is it not? 

To look at it from another light, trials make us happier, stronger, and more appreciative. Yet, we dread them? We hate stretch marks, torn muscles, and losing sleep. It's all growth. It's all necessary. We hate change, but that's how the world rolls. Literally too.

Stand up, breath, and walk. Carry the fire.