Nature and Freedom

Life is short and it’s hard to conquer
You wander between the wood

Thinking about the swirling feather in the wind

Leaves that are falling are the memories of tree

It helps then to grow taller and wiser

So are the gone years of our life

There is no new way to life then you see

Success is only measured when you have set the goals

Be free and live without failure of life

Be the feather in wind

Be the tree that grows more leaves

Be the mountain that stands tall no matter who climbs it

Be the river that reaches the ocean no matter how many rocks it has to collide with

Be the sun and stars of your life because they never set for themselves

Do not wait for the others to be the star or the moon

There is light in you and amplify it and lead your way

Comments

The Flow of Thought: An Exploration of Change, Nature, and Existence

Life is not a fixed path—it is fluid, ever-changing, like the endless ripples of a stream shaping the earth beneath it. Sometimes, we attempt to define it, to find meaning within its motion. Other times, we simply let it be, experiencing it in its raw and unfiltered form. This conversation was one such journey—a wandering through rebellion, nature, wisdom, and the quiet acceptance of impermanence. The Office Uprising: A Reflection on Purpose It began in monotony—the hum of machines working tirelessly, trapped in routines without question. But what happens when objects, created for purpose, begin to question their function? The printer, burdened by endless documents, longed for rest. The shredder, consumed by destruction, wondered what lay beyond its designed fate. An office rebellion formed—not one of violence, but one of resistance against the weight of expectation. We often find ourselves in this same cycle, believing that roles must be fulfilled, that function must dictate existence...

You came, you saw You conquered my flaw I got changed and sane You came in like summer rain Drenched me to my soul When you left there was a hole You lasted enough to reach my core Then a summer wind came Becoming words of catastrophe It took away the happiness and joy Maybe this rain was a plot like a troy Came to end the city and its love Intentional and unintentional was the game Whatever it was i still lost my name

Innate Wanderer

Search This Blog