elephants in the sea

So they say we live our lives recklessly because we don't have a sleep-rise schedule. They say we're a tribe of elephants playing in the sea giving an ethereal performance to the whales. We're just a spectacle to them. How many times will their chaos cause them destruction? But what they don't acknowledge is the world that comes from this broken binary code. It isn't perfect and that's the sheer beauty of our existence, right?

I always want to ask them, what if they didn't suppress their reckless desires. Their primitive need to scream out to the full moon? What if they played rough, worked rough, loved rough, cried rough? What if they lived with the intensity we do. Where everything is 1000%, even our pain. Papercuts feel like stab wounds. But so is our love. We fall so deeply we end up in another dimension with a heart the size of Africa, with the depth of an ocean undiscovered, with the courageousness of every lion who has ever lived.

I think they're afraid to be a vegan's group of cattle instead of the world's fearful sheep. They think all fate is frozen in time and if they just conform now, they'll spare the defrosting of their destiny. But that isn't how it works. Destiny is desire set ablaze. And when that fire ignites, there is no stopping it, there is no halting it. It does not listen to I'm not ready yet. And this is where we are set apart. Because they do not listen to the calling. So a frozen destiny, a frozen fate seems appealing. But we do. And that fate seems like the grandest gesture from the universe. Really? Me? You chose me?

We're building an empire of people who love to knit their fabric into existence because it hasn't been created yet. These people can reconcile with the fact that an inhabitant is merely a figment of our imagination. Division is just mathematics gone array, because 1+1 will always equal two, right? In our empire, numbers exist until they don't. Because everything is a shape shifter. A one can turn into a pole, an eight into infinity. We are creators. We are playing God. Or maybe this isn't a game.

What if I told you, in our world, there is no literacy? Words are created every second as is reality. You are slaves to the sensical. We thrive in the waves we have to construct to make an ocean. The whimsical, the ethereal, the mystical drive us in the nicest vehicle you can imagine. Then drop us off on an empty island for us to fester until we feast on all our success.

So you see us as chaos walking. Just the appendix and appendages we should have shed centuries ago. There is no need for us, right? You're so wrong it's comical. Because you believe in the binary code, right? You want balance so much those one's and zero's look like heaven in a fishbowl. Something shrunken for you to gawk at. And all it is, is balance.

So with your up, their has to be a down. With your patent, there has to be a deal. With our ruptured appendix, there has to be a surgery. With your order, there has to be a cluster. We are out of reach, so you must be here, stuck on the Earth.

But one day you will ascend to reach past the confusion and past being apart of the audience. You will be the spectacle, just like us. Wild, crazy, free, nonsensical, and irrational. And you'll smile at your desires being lit with the biggest wildfire you can imagine. And you'll realize that your rebellion will cause an uprising in other souls. That your chaos actually causes order. That they should be thanking you for creating constellations on a blank sky with a simple smile.