Purpose.

To me, this is one of those awkward moments where words and ideas shuts itself from coming out. Though this responsibility-like feeling on not wanting to leave this blog sphere abandoned for too long without any updates compels one to somewhat push the words out rather forcibly but at the same trying to arrange it neatly. The self refuses to speak of itself and closes the curtains from being studied by curious eyes. Yet when an out-pour of expression—of any kind is involved it does give out a thing or two, sometimes even more.  

One minute the sun shines bright, making everyone smile the next minute the sun pushes it and causes man to whimper and as usual whine about the discomfort of the heat that had been produced. One minute the rain falls down like the blessing it is, wets the ground, nourishes the green and creates a creek, a stream, a pond, a bay and a water source to drink from. The next it pours down a storm and causes worry and when it continues pouring no man-made drainage system is able to stop it from flooding.

Man a sensitive creature, it shouldn’t be too hot neither should it be too cold. It shouldn’t be too nice, shouldn’t be too evil; shouldn’t be too this nor too that. He lives his life trying to find what makes him feel the best, yet he dies not knowing that acceptance was always best for him.

Though, when some might dream of bigger things, some dream of better feelings, when some might dream of gaining prestige, some thinks of attaining peace, when some might dream of all the things that society deems, a few would dream of the requirements to attain the purest of love form. When some is able to notice it and see it, most are engulfed by the rat-race, the traffic jams, the chopping down the trees, and the cutting down the mountains and the blatant act of attaining more and more wealth to secure this delusional pretence of security. Verily, if only some could see.

The flower so generous, it livens the mood, brighten the eyes, the trees so compassionate, exhales oxygen, provides shade and yields all kinds of fruits to man, the vegetation’s nutritious, nourishes the man, the river, the sea, the air we breathe…yet man, he destroys the mountains and pollutes the seas, cuts down the trees to give way for posh buildings not meant for no animals nor all people.

So much has he whined about and for so long but to no avail; yet it acts as a reminder to himself, year after year how has his thoughts have changed. When he comes back another year, he might notice some differences in his stand. That being said, he fears he becomes one of those inconsiderate human beings he so vehemently speaks badly about.  L