tasteful classification: mindspew

I am at my most sublime, when I'm sounding rainbows,

chasing rhymes; throwing shapes, and inking hazy details

in a muted world, so insubstantial, light has yet to fall

I push reality to the four winds, in favour of what,

might have been. In dearth of subconscious dreams, I'll take,

this waking day and forge a world, of my own design.

Humanity’s capacity for seemingly boundless optimism, in the face of adversity and impossible odds, is something that will never cease to astonish me. The ability to suspend disbelief and flagrantly delude ourselves can surely serve no higher purpose, other than to aid our ability to find happiness in the simple things. Conversely, hope can also be a burden; becoming the proverbial straw, which eventually breaks a camel’s back. Why we are so determined to push the boundaries of reality, is entirely beyond me – but I am just as guilty of revising the truth of a situation, as the next person. In rewording past events, we work at reworking our own history; and in doing so, we warp the image that we hold, not only of ourselves but of what is achievable and ‘real’.

But what is reality, anyway?

I don’t subscribe to the media’s false representation of the world around me; though I dare say, they don’t wilfully deceive us quite as often as we are wont to give them credit. The older I become, the more incapable I am of taking the world at face value. I can think of no instance, where I can say confidently that an event has happened for a reason; yet I still console myself, in times of doubt, with a mantra so geometrically opposed this rationale as to make myself ridiculous.

“For everything, a reason”, is a phrase that soothes all manner of hurts. It is just a construction of words, however, although the consoling effect that it has upon me is made no less real by this realisation. I am not entirely sure, whether a thing can exist if it is not always in a solid state. After it has gone, and there is nothing left to show for it having ever been there– I don't contest that it EXISTED, but can't say with confidence that I believe it exists. Spoken and written legacy, is humanity's greatest invention

Anyway, I digress. Surely, the surest sign of fool is the person who laments over a love that is forged upon ineffable ‘should have beens’, before first having sounded the thoughts, which form the feeling. You can't love, alone, and expect everything to simply fall into place. Just as ideas are nothing until they have been voiced, so too are emotions; so speak up, proudly. Boldly.

The Jimi Hendrix Experience-Bold As Love by aasawyer1127

Bold as Love—but there is no “quietly understand”.

You have to hear the words, those that construct a shaky reality,

before you can possibly conceive of gleaning understanding.


Slight dedication to Bea, for poking my down the dingy path of the question of existance.
=/

I don't want to think in should have beens,
Where once I thought in whens and hows.