The Soul's Subconscious

Chapter 4

...And then not so long you realise that this hope you contain.. it's hope for life, for reality, for the better. It's something to be nurtured even if you feel like realism can overtake dreams. It's a matter of being your own hero, because you shouldn't be hassled into a mediocre lifestyle.

This is when it all happened. Short, sweet but tamed to be agonising. In your own kingdom of isolation - that's when you actually learn to be proactive, with each second. It's a matter of time. 86,400 seconds a day. For some of us, less. For some others, more. I think they are exactly the right figures. Instead of wanting more of external factors, we should want more of ourselves. Change, add, minus, or develop ourselves.

So... This time for the mediocrity, I am not going to stop. As that is what needs an uplift. Because heroes for all that is conceptualised are far, far away from such mediocre existence. Where mediocre exists, love cannot. Neither trust, nor belief. Neither a big, fat ego. This is how I know... I guess, that when I am out there, I don't see any big, fat ego. It wasn't there in the first place. As you say, it's within you, inside; after all it's about realising.

Realising this, I just had to write it down. Yes... love has a different meaning now. Before, I would write about it. That time, I thought it was love... shame on me. This time no mediocre. It's metanoia. It's when you start realising love is too "love", you cannot fit words of love into a book; it goes on and on. You cannot write or speak of it anymore.  That would only be so average. Cliché. That would be foolish. That would be narcissism. I don't want to write about it; I'd rather spend 86,400 seconds praying. Being my own hero. Therefore, a hero would make another hero. Or, find it's own. Or, live.

This is it. Back to brown branches and colourful blossoms that spring out from them. Without talking. Just feels.

*End*