Just make it better. Better than what it should be. Better than what it must be. Better than what, IT IS.
Why in the world should you dare to make it better?
Why would you do that ? Why it’s not supposed to be the way it is now? The way it was ‘destined’ to be? Being exactly the way it is now, why would you suck the essence out of it and totally doom the innocence that was its Guardian all along?
It’s because YOU’RE better than it. Better than what it can be. Better than what it Should, Must and of course, better than what it is.
It’s why you are here. Defying all the conspiracies that Nature set right in your way, in your being , and along your Life that you hold at present.
And to be really honest, you’re beyond all this. ALL THIS!
This nonsense of an Existence which never actually deserved you at the very first place.
And hence to just set things right, to be in unison with the Collective Dance that is this fickle Existence, I say Step up there Mate!
So that at the end it does not dare throw you off its beats or its tunes, which were never meant to be played for a purpose or meaning, unless you came to its threshold and gave it expression.
Expressions to the minutest of its detail, making it Art, making it Science and ultimately making it a pursuit of itself , by itself and for itself , all just to make a nest that was comforting to that sigh……
…which followed a beautiful dream that was this… HUMANITY
Make it better. I know it’s hard. I know no one’s there. I get that things are tangling themselves by themselves. Like a ball of the woollen thread bunned together all along by itself.
All I’d say is to wait, and let the scent of perspiration, be sensed by every soul that is inspired to do the same.
Which is when IT HAPPENS, when at a certain crevice of eternity you find the hiding end of that woollen thread. You hold it tightly, never to lose its grip. At least until the bunned ball , unbuns itself, which of course you let lose.
Which rolls along a path you never imagined ever existed, untangling itself, and finding the expression that it was to find.
Basking the ultimate nature that it had all along.
Demonstrating the BETTER, that was my disguised prophecy for you, a while ago.
And more importantly leaving a path that was the very thread, which tailed that rolling and untangling woollen thread bun, betraying and simplifying its form at the same time.
That is when you lose your hold of the thread. You lose your grip. When finally the prophecy has flowered. When you’re free to leave ! Free to go !
What do you do?
You know it.