Stories I tell myself
rummage through my soul’s good health
Pieces of me attained
Brings me to moments of wealth
Dying in the sun
Rebirths to know my why
Ending up on this plane
I reached up to grab the sky
Worries would storm my nature
I have no where to escape to
Pouring my heart into poems
My mind isn’t so apt to erase you
The evil is pure but I don’t condone or promote it
I practice wholesome alchemy
To rest, restore, and heal hopeless
I hate to feel hopeless
That is a grim and sacred scare
It is a dim and sole
Spacious fear
Adoring my leaves I’ve grown with
Seeds are near to begin sprouting and showing
I see how my emotions are potent
And simply needs my simple doses of roses
Packing my bags on my back
I’m headed to heaven and to no longer that trap
I tapped into my inner resources
I’m always holding on to just that
[107] Not just that every day more of our life is used up and less and less of it is left, but this too: if we live longer, can we be sure our mind will still be up to understanding the world – to the contemplation that aims at divine and human knowledge? If our mind starts to wander, we’ll still go on breathing, go on eating, imagining things, feeling urges and so on. But getting the most out of ourselves, calculating where our duty lies, analyzing what we hear and see, deciding whether it’s time to call it quits – all things you need a healthy mind for… all those are gone. So we need to hurry. Not just because we move daily closer to death but also because our understanding – our grasp of the world – may be gone before we get there.