Thoughts are raw ingredients:
Unprocessed, unfinished,
Useless on their own.
But they shape You.
All things you see or do,
Each thing around
Triggers a thought;
You may let go of it,
Or hold onto it,
Or develop it into
Something much more.
These ingredients are
Matched, tested, tasted,
Modified, amplified, blended,
Mixed all through your life
To make the final you.
At every step you need
To act the chef
Check, modify, add
And shape yourself;
And all these thoughts,
Theories, feelings
These are the ingredients
That make you up.
A long life of experiences,
Struggles, drawbacks later
You get the final YOU ready.
What was all this for?
Why amass all the wisdom
And then just die?
What were we preparing for?
Death?
Death cannot be the end...
~azmina
YOU ARE READING
Of Floating Buoys and Broken Bells
Poetry"Poetry flowed like little rivulets From the ocean that was her soul." ~azmina Our souls dance to the rhythm of poetry. A small collection of my poems that will, hopefully, provide the beats to your dance.
