The River Of Souls

You sleep on a river, made of everyone you’ve ever been, who carried you to where you are.

Every movement up until this point by every one of your ancestors brought you here.

You are a flame alive for a moment.

A frame in something so much bigger that stretches from the first second to the last.

You are a walking miracle and every movement is as pure and incredible as the birth of a new star,  or the death of an old one. Like a god. You float through time from flower to flower, unaware that you are magical beyond everything, in everything you do.

Look at you. Only here. For now.

And in every life, we stand across from each other.
And I always tell you this.
And in every life, I must remind you.

Because you forget just how incredible you are.

The You The World Waits For

If you are not authentically you, the real, original you, you will attract people who are not authentically themselves.

You will attract and become attracted to things which aren’t real, which don’t matter.

You will become frustrated and angry at small, petty things in your life and you will not understand why.

You will feel like the universe is not respecting your space, like it’s bumping into you, constantly. Shoving you.

This is because it’s trying to get you to notice who you are.

This is because it’s trying to say, “Hey! I know you! You are so much more than this!”

And if you make that choice, to be who you really are, you will discover the real, original you, has been waiting for you.

You will discover that you have always been worth your own love and respect.

 You will discover you have always been worth, being you.

The Time-lapse Of Your Soul

I know right now it seems like you'll never forget, because this hurts, but one day you will.

So I want you to tie some string around your finger, because I want you to remember something.

I want you to remember that none of this beat you.

I want you to remember that you were stronger than all of it.

And this didn't kill you.

You killed this.

The Poison Story

Here is a poisonous story you can tell a child:

"The ground you were born on makes you better than anyone else. The ground you were born is so special, it must be defended at all costs. We must celebrate it with songs, and multicoloured strips of cloth that we can tie to poles. The ground you're born is special because of you, and you are special because of it."

The Sadness Of Comedy

Anyone looking onto the stage where we lived out our lives would've called us a tragedy, because we had good intentions. But we don't suffer the consequences of our good intentions. We suffer the consequences of our actions.