Am I An Artist?

You will run. You will hide. You will try to defy me with all your might— But you shall never escape my sight. Not through lies. For I am every truth you’ve ever denied. You think you know your “self”? You’ve been deceived. I see the void in you— It called to me in pain. A chamber where you buried Your anger, your grief, your guilt, your shame. I whisper in the ears of those Who betray their own knowing. And when they silence that whisper— (as they always do)— That’s when I become the menace I am. That’s when they judge me as evil, outright. That’s when they realize— I am inevitable. I was always there— Inside you, Around you, Warning you. But you never wanted to face your truth. You just wanted your ache to end. You condemn me as the invader. But I never enter anyone uninvited. I did enter you— Every time you invalidated your own convictions. Now, You hear me. You listen—not out of trust, But necessity. So I offer you this: Accept what is, Release what was never yours. If you want out...

  I. Yearning Dear strange soul, my spirit yearns to speak from the depths of an epiphany that has rattled me, within... I’ve had needs that were untended in the past— needs that were never too much of an ask. I was taught not to expect life from humankind, but I expected regardless, searching for its seeds within strange souls— alien beings who lived on the fringes of society. I was drawn to them, probably by the forces of my past. But they were merely figments of my imagination. I believed in the treasures hidden within them. I saw singularity and effervescence, but I was misguided. They were soul pirates , their vaults filled with cosmic parasites . II. Fracture The parasites got under my skin when I opened the vault, and I was sucked into their whirlpool of darkness and misery. I cried aloud for the pain gnawing at their spirit—and mine. But they never listened. By then, their souls were deaf to the remnants of their own truth. I looked around and saw none...

I am a Camel. I am old… People call me the ship of the desert. A ship is supposed to sail on water. But instead, I sail on dry sand, and see no water in sight. I have been banished here by everyone I ever cared for. What a cruel thing to do, after carrying them all for miles without rest… What is my crime? What have I done to deserve this? They say I am incapable of understanding. They say I do not see them. But they do not know themselves as I do. I always see through their clay faces… What is my sin? They say I am incapable of being truly useful. All the while, I was being used by them— To carry their burdens for miles on my back, Without having a sip of water… I lived as far away as I could from the life I craved for all of them… I gave up my strength to harbour the weakness of all these other ungrateful camels… Maybe it is my impenetrable thick fur, as they say… Maybe it is my inability for “vulnerability,” My crippling fear of letting anything at all in...

  Dear child, I want to be honest with you right now—but I promise I won’t be unnecessarily harsh. You won’t regret listening once I’ve said what I need to say. Right now, you are an empty cup. What do I mean by that? It means you receive anything you believe is tea, without realizing it might be dirty water. This is why you keep getting hurt. Your imagination and reality have never been in alignment—and perhaps, they never truly will be. Because over time, you’ll come to understand: you are not meant to blend in. You will reject the notion of fitting into a world that was never built for your truth. You’ll realize that you can only maintain that façade for so long. And eventually, you’ll stop being afraid to show yourself and speak your mind. You must choose to become a full cup—by choosing to become a better version of yourself. That version already exists. It lies dormant within you, waiting for your call. Your will to act, your choice to rise above your struggles— that...

So today I want to talk a bit about conversations.  Seems counterintuitive – talking about talking. But that is exactly what I intend to do.  We live in a world bombarded with information we don’t need, on a moment-to-moment basis, in the form of words, pictures, and sounds. This might make me sound a bit old, but those damn phones are true barriers. They act as an escape—a quick way to zone out of uncomfortable situations—and this is where most of the “information bombarding” happens. Let me restate an obvious fact:  Conversation is not about information interchange.   That’s not the point. Ours is a world of text messages, voice chats, video calls, emojis, and stickers. We do this often, but rarely do we connect with the person on the other side. Most of the time, we are running on autopilot. The Significance of Being Real Conversations are the lifeblood of human relationships. I’m not talking about rehearsed politeness or small talk. Sure, small tal...

  I yearn for the feminine… Someone with the heart to care for me and truly care about me. Someone with whom I can share my tenderness. Someone I can kiss, cuddle, and feel at home with. Someone who gets my banter—so I never have to walk on eggshells.   I want someone who feels rested  as we travel through the tides of life. Someone who sinks into my chest as we lie entangled in a sea of lush green grass,  glistening with morning dew.  I need someone open enough to receive me—mind, body, and soul. I need someone I can affect and penetrate, whole. Someone curious about life and existence, Someone who loves to explore the realities of the universe and the mysteries beyond. I need someone with whom I can have deep, endless conversations— About everything beneath the sun and stars, The depths of the oceans, And the infinite vastness of space.   I need someone I can rely on when I feel lost. I need someone who is present when we are together. I need someone ...