People are more than what they display to the public. They can carve and mold themselves into what is socially acceptable, knowing deep down that there is much more than the old plain being they drag around each day. I believe each and every one of us live this way.
If I walked the most crowded streets of the city while fully naked, every person on that street would consider me crazy, for they believe they are sane. Where does this relatively come from?
Who differentiated the right from the wrong?
Who declared that walking around the city naked is insanity?
I look around me and all I see are eyes staring right back at me, and through these eyes I see judgment, expectations, imposed beliefs, confined minds, cuffed souls and so much more of the most awfully unbearable sight. Then I think to myself, If only these people, these poor tortured souls have been given away, a chance, acceptance or the simplest gesture of approval, Oh, how wonderful that would have been! So many genius minds would have soared the skies, so many insanely beautiful souls could have looked over each other like guardian angels. Seems like an absurd fantasy, doesn’t it?
One of the deep and splendid minds I know once more wrote "In the end, WE all take refuge in art." or something like that. I take the WE in this statement as the ones that live in this cursed world, carved and molded by society, but in disguise they are those genius minds that soar the skies. How do they do that, you ask? They simply write. They write about those things we are forbidden to speak of, they break the chains in which we tied ourselves in, in order to "fit in society". They dare us to let our minds fly out of our bodies, or better describe as cages and explore. And we have no choice but to surrender, for their words are beyond powerful and we are too weak to blind our selves any further.
And then, there are those that have insanely beautiful souls, that when they gently brush on their canvas it comes to life. Their art speaks to us, their works see right through us. For some of us, it might bring tears to our eyes because just looking at it makes us realize how valueless everything we had ever accomplished is. It reminds us that it's pointless. And as for some of us, we just simply get high on it. We stare at it until our souls leave our bodies and build their homes in the painting in front of us. Thanks to those beautiful minds and souls we are reminded of what being here, on earth, really means. So, I guess in the end, we all do take refuge in art.
🔹Origunal work🔸
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Farctated With The Dusk
PoetryA book where I write all I have written on my big old notebook. ~Prolouges ~Poems ~Short stories ~Quotes The writings that aren't mine will be mentioned whenever they are written but, all other except those, are mine. I might as well warn, it's not...
