I got myself a new journal, not be cause the last one i had was full...not by a long shot but, i think i get drawn to blank pages. I'm probably that, allured - dare i say addicted - to clean virgin pages that await my ink's penetration, scarring them until they have no other story but mine to tell.
Perhaps its like the ideology that "death is the creator of time; created time to grow that of which it will kill." They say its a negative thought thinking that way, yet they keep cattle and chicken until just about te right time to slaughter them and pack them off to the stores or maybe to KFC. We are killers in our own way and we dignify it with the need to survive.
A tiger kills a man and its put down yet a man kills a tiger and is praised.
It makes me wonder why we cry for a life that is lost? Other than the vacuum that is left by losing someone, losing a connection, missing that which we have grown used to and the fear of starting again, i doubt that we have a right to cry with questions of confusion as to why God takes them all so young or why is it he doesn't give some bodies the chance to exist longer to let the souls grow. Then from there we slaughter a couple of baby chicken for the memorial service of the little child who died so young. The irony of life is that Death doesn't have discretion, whatever it is that lies lifeless; human or bird, is just but meat. Life was there and then it was gone. The real challenge is what kills first.
I will ask the question, Is death God? Is death a force opposite of God? If it is, then to understand God we must understand death for we know no beauty unless we have noticed the ugly.
Its the need to be in control of something, perhaps my thought. an attempt to file and box feelings. What if, maybe we are all experiments of thought and lifestyles. Maybe God watches intrigued by how we move, deal, experience life. I used to be a kid who would put ants in a box to watch their movements. I'd add sand stones and grass to the box to add that "challenge" to the ant. What if we are the ants and God is the little girl with the box. And every thing we face is just that challenge factor?
All our trial seemingly point back to the need to believe in something. To look to the future to believe in better. Is that perhaps the way God sears his stamps into our souls? Is that how his ink penetrates our virginal hearts of self believe to a belief in him? To think there must be more to life than the box?
Perhaps its like the ideology that "death is the creator of time; created time to grow that of which it will kill." They say its a negative thought thinking that way, yet they keep cattle and chicken until just about te right time to slaughter them and pack them off to the stores or maybe to KFC. We are killers in our own way and we dignify it with the need to survive.
A tiger kills a man and its put down yet a man kills a tiger and is praised.
It makes me wonder why we cry for a life that is lost? Other than the vacuum that is left by losing someone, losing a connection, missing that which we have grown used to and the fear of starting again, i doubt that we have a right to cry with questions of confusion as to why God takes them all so young or why is it he doesn't give some bodies the chance to exist longer to let the souls grow. Then from there we slaughter a couple of baby chicken for the memorial service of the little child who died so young. The irony of life is that Death doesn't have discretion, whatever it is that lies lifeless; human or bird, is just but meat. Life was there and then it was gone. The real challenge is what kills first.
I will ask the question, Is death God? Is death a force opposite of God? If it is, then to understand God we must understand death for we know no beauty unless we have noticed the ugly.
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