12/25/2023
7:49PM
To seek divinity, feel small and safe under a terrifyingly vast sky, fear it would come crashing down on you and anticipate God's embrace with pure elation and love, to force the rain of sainthood and superhumanity down your humble throat and burn, not with an ethereal light but, with the emptiness of your promise to live up, to make your devotion to something bigger than yourself into a crown an place it atop a human's head, is not life, but it is to walk the simple and short line of mediocrity without paying a single thought to the hollowness below, to walk on so that the train of time doesn't pass you, nor fuses you to the tracks, to sit every now and then resting, gazing forward on a setting sun, feeling the weight of everyone beside you but never wondering -or asking- what colors their sunsets may be.
[A decaying landscape that outrageously begs to not hope, to complete the inconceivable task of simply being, continuously soothes us, saying "I promised nothing, I promised nothing". Genuinely, how comforting, how nice.]
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