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Whispers

“Feed your intellect because it’s what you (think you) need. Feed it because you would rather focus on the facts than on your own thoughts. Learn about your anatomy, study the planets, and learn all you can from history. Fill your mind with what you can handle to keep it from what you can’t. Choose fleeting moments of satisfaction over eternal happiness.

But deep down you know that at your darkest moment none of that comes to rescue you. At your darkest moment you can’t remember which planet rotated around the sun in a different direction from the rest or which cranial nerve was first. Was it the olfactory or was it the optic?

At your darkest moment your memory of her outshines all the data you have ever acquired. Her memory that is not only the cause of your despair but also the reason behind your recovery. A memory imprinted so effortlessly in your memory that you cannot let it go no matter how hard you try in contrast to the knowledge that escapes you no matter how hard you try to hold on to it.

You wonder what will happen to that memory as you grow older and your memory starts to give out. Will it disappear along with everything else? Or will it outlive you as it exists for a few seconds as chemicals between neurons after your heart stops beating?

Do you even know which you would rather it be? If it lived on with you would it haunt you in your final moments or would it make it all okay?

Questions you have no way of answering now or ever until it’s time. Now all you know is that you would rather drown your thoughts with pieces of knowledge. Bury your face into that book and worry about the characters rather than your self. Hide behind your intellect, your knowledge, your deductions, and your wittiness for they are all you have.”

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Poem: To Fly

They pushed him down and said he’d never fly
The little boy tumbled and started to cry
He went home to his mother who said “my oh my”
He told her he was told he couldn’t even try
She said “well maybe they’re right, you don’t always have to put up a fight”
The little boy couldn’t believe what he had heard
For even a child this was absurd
He swore to himself that he’d make them see
That one day like a bird he’d be
The boy grew older and grew a moustache
But the fire in his chest never turned to ash
He had become a man but still didn’t have a single fan
He refused to quit what he one day began
Idea after idea and thought after thought the little boy continued to plot
He started to experiment but always failed
His friends’ cynicism always prevailed
Until one day he tried and nearly died
His father told him “just let it go”
He asked him if this was all just a show
The boy was surprised for he thought his father would understand
That to fly is his heart’s sole demand
He left home but was never alone
For passion and ambition were his companions
He never did complain or even moan
Until one day the little boy yet fully grown man was able to put together a plan
Even he couldn’t believe it
He had finally succeeded
He soared like a bird up in the sky
“I told them that I’d one day fly”
He enjoyed the view as everything from up here looked new
Then he thought about telling his family and crew
But a sad thought shadowed his glee
“If they could see all of this with me, down there is still where they’d rather be”
He decided to keep this to himself
To them it would be a fairytale on a shelf
“There’s no need to share, they wouldn’t even care. This amount of happiness is extremely rare”
The grown man then started to cry
For at that moment he was a little boy who could fly

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