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Void's Poetry

Migrated topic.
I have been a fool,
for judging myself for my own trauma,
Elements of experience that I have no way of having control of,
And at an age,
Where I was too young,
To have the wisdom to respond in a healthier manner.

I have been a fool,
For projecting onto myself,
That which was forced on me.
The standards,
The expectations,
The conditionality,
The abuse,
The lack of compassion,
The lack of understanding,
The lack of love.

I'm a fool now for saying I'm a fool for these things.

This is compassion.

One love
 
I seek dissolution from myself.
Unable to reconcile my own negativity.
Invasive and yet alluring.
Comfortable, like an old friend.
One who sells you down the river in the end.

As the river boils, I know of her strife.
Tears welling on a peaceful drive.
The voice of a pain I too can feel inside.
I pull over to sit and cry.

Head low, and hopes dashed.
I find solace knowing this too, shall pass.
Knowing truly that I'm not an island,
I return to my day as best I can.



Your sympathy for the inner fool opened something up in me. I won't tease with a deletion this time.
Somehow, I feel this gets my insecurities across to others a little better than the tangents and digressions I tend to ramble my way through.
there's beauty in simplicity.

Peace and Love,
Duck
 
Thank you for helping me remember :)

as I read these words, traveled through the internet, from your keyboard, your body moving to the voice of your spirit,
now touches deep into my soul, your voice, is in me, the voice is in us
thank you for helping me remember

to listen
and
let in
your voice
let in
your voice
into my depths

touching the fine golden thread
of my soul
serenity
eternity

thank you for
helping me remember
to listen
listen
listen
...
...

our dance
together,
dancing Dancing :D

🙏🏼😉
🔥🌊

you are speaking
your sacred voice
so with the deepest respect I have ever known
I listen

thank you for helping me remember....

listening
👁️💃🏼
 
I accept where I am,
Accepting the fear,
The internal and external,
Judgments mean nothing,
Now.
I am where I am.
And that's okay.
To move from this point,
This obstruction,
From the depths desired,
Acceptance comes first.
And is sometimes,
A long and,
Arduous process,
Providing acceptance,
Over and over,
Unitl "it" clicks,
Is how progress is made.
I may feel,
I've regressed,
Going backwards,
From what I used to be able to do,
But this is a forward movement,
That's only gaining momentum,
Towards a deeper
Inner work.
I accept where I am.
And use this acceptance as a way forward.
I accept where I am.

One love
 
Shutdown.
Mind on standby.
Inherent meaningless,
Felt deeply,
I can't engage.
Everything feels so dull,
Vapid,
Artificial,
Vacuous.
I can't engage.
I feel so grey,
Dour,
Disinterested,
Bored.
I'm tired...
Very little sounds good anymore.
Very little piques my interest anymore.
I don't know what to do,
In this black quicksand.
It all seems so transparent,
And empty.
Disinterested,
Disengaged,
My cognition declines.
I'm so tired...
Confined to my bed,
Action paralysis,
I don't want to eat.
Out of drive.
No motivation.
It consumes me,
And every fiber,
Of my being.
The weight of each cell felt,
Awareness is inundating.
A psychological deluge,
Sink or swim,
In the roiling waters.
The most viscuous,
And turbid,
Of waters.
Is my skepticism,
Just a masked derealization?
And is this felt meaninglessness,
A result as well?
I question myself.
And sense of self is further skewed.
I question what meaning,
I create.
Listlessness.
Floating in the confusion.

One love
 
Voidmatrix said:
Shutdown.
Mind on standby.
Inherent meaningless,
Felt deeply,
I can't engage.
Everything feels so dull,
Vapid,
Artificial,
Vacuous.
I can't engage.
I feel so grey,
Dour,
Disinterested,
Bored.
I'm tired...
Very little sounds good anymore.
Very little piques my interest anymore.
I don't know what to do,
In this black quicksand.
It all seems so transparent,
And empty.
Disinterested,
Disengaged,
My cognition declines.
I'm so tired...
Confined to my bed,
Action paralysis,
I don't want to eat.
Out of drive.
No motivation.
It consumes me,
And every fiber,
Of my being.
The weight of each cell felt,
Awareness is inundating.
A psychological deluge,
Sink or swim,
In the roiling waters.
The most viscuous,
And turbid,
Of waters.
Is my skepticism,
Just a masked derealization?
And is this felt meaninglessness,
A result as well?
I question myself.
And sense of self is further skewed.
I question what meaning,
I create.
Listlessness.
Floating in the confusion.

One love
Click to expand...
“I love the dark hours of my being,” said Rainer Maria Rilke

Boredom is always the beginning of the great thought, my friend. Philosophical encouragement for this transition! 💜
 
A cross-section,
Epistemology,
Philosophy of mind.
For there's no way to show,
No way to prove,
No evidence to support,
That things didn't just,
Come into existence,
Right now,
In this moment.
For everything,
Including the faculties,
That may tell us otherwise,
Also would have just,
Come into existence.
The mechanism of memory,
The mechanism, of thought,
The capability to reason,
Would have just,
Come into existence.
The thought of such being unlikely,
Is ultimately meaningless,
For if EVERYTHING just,
Came into existence,
Nothing is exempt,
Not even the extant thought,
That it's unlikely.
EVERYTHING;
Each atom,
Every molecule,
Specific discreetness,
Every artifact.
What if everything just,
Came into existence?
Then there is no past,
And the future is not here.
Then all one has,
Is the present,
Mutable,
Beautiful,
Moment.

One love
 
From 10 years ago;

"
Endlessness is here. Feel what is beyond all fear. Lose your self in being. From what are you fleeing? The time is now, there is no tomorrow. Realize this and end all sorrow.
"

10 year update;

There still seems to be an experience of a human form. Seemingly 10 years later.

Seemingly
 
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Never having had a mentor,
Nor a teacher,
I discover and pick gems,
From the rough,
Incisive penetration,
Avoiding dogmatic flotsam,
Aiming to understand without judging,
My beliefs have been purged.
Seeking the balance,
There's no need,
To be told an answer.
Dive into the mystery,
My biggest takeaways,
From particular prophets.
Open yet critical,
It's important to be wary of claims.
Claims that orient us,
In our understanding.
Operation in the indefinite,
The undefined,
It's almost quantum.
Paradoxical mutability.
We say "the ultimate truth is x,"
When it seems such is beyond number,
Beyond words,
It's experiential
And ostensive;
We dance around it.
Never overgeneralizing,
Stating the disparate point to the same,
I don't need such unverified equivocations,
Bearing the weight,
Of the implications,
Of such overwhelming data.
Appealing to chaos,
It can eat me alive.
The jester archetype.
The sage archetype.
The balance of sustaining bounds,
While breaking them.
Is that what this reflects?
Is this confidence?
Or is this merely arrogance?

One love
 
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