Molded into Perfect Sense
I like to think that we're all dreamers and realists at the same time.
At least, I was.
Or, I am.
I like to think that the questions of life doesn't need to be answered so urgently.
At least, maybe tomorrow.
Or, never.
Let it remain a mystery, let it remain a gap in the ever evolving minds of humankind.
I like to think that wherever heaven lies, hell is just next door.
At least, maybe a block away.
Or, a few bus stop further.
But make heaven fuller, so the screams and the pain of mankind that has lived by greed and hate are drowned by the laughter of children and the kisses of man and woman or man and man or woman and woman, all in love.
I like to think about money, about having money, about the things you can buy.
At least, maybe the things you can borrow.
Or, the things you can change.
To let the thing we need the most be the thing we share the most.
I like to think that we're all safe. From wars and starvation, earthquakes and tsunamis, heartbreaks and betrayal.
At least, maybe from ourselves.
Or, most of all...from ourselves.
I like to think, and maybe I think too much.
At least, maybe I should stop.
Or, take a breath and let things roll the way they're meant to unfold.
But maybe I should take a chance to change the way reality falls and mold them into a dreamlike shape, like playdoh of different colours all rolled up to make different shade of colours. New colours.
Maybe that's what reality is.
A basic and at times boring piece of playdoh that needs other basic boring pieces to be molded and rolled and touched by the warmth of hands then put into a dreamlike shape of hopes and promises.
A mold of anticipation and visions, of reverie.
That's it.
That's what I thought.
That the things I thought and the reality I am faced with and will face are both colliding in perfect sense.
Just waiting for the right pair of hands, maybe two pair of hands, or a hundred. Waiting to be molded and conditioned into a dreamlike state of reality.
That's right.
Our dreamlike state of reality.
At least, I was.
Or, I am.
I like to think that the questions of life doesn't need to be answered so urgently.
At least, maybe tomorrow.
Or, never.
Let it remain a mystery, let it remain a gap in the ever evolving minds of humankind.
I like to think that wherever heaven lies, hell is just next door.
At least, maybe a block away.
Or, a few bus stop further.
But make heaven fuller, so the screams and the pain of mankind that has lived by greed and hate are drowned by the laughter of children and the kisses of man and woman or man and man or woman and woman, all in love.
I like to think about money, about having money, about the things you can buy.
At least, maybe the things you can borrow.
Or, the things you can change.
To let the thing we need the most be the thing we share the most.
I like to think that we're all safe. From wars and starvation, earthquakes and tsunamis, heartbreaks and betrayal.
At least, maybe from ourselves.
Or, most of all...from ourselves.
I like to think, and maybe I think too much.
At least, maybe I should stop.
Or, take a breath and let things roll the way they're meant to unfold.
But maybe I should take a chance to change the way reality falls and mold them into a dreamlike shape, like playdoh of different colours all rolled up to make different shade of colours. New colours.
Maybe that's what reality is.
A basic and at times boring piece of playdoh that needs other basic boring pieces to be molded and rolled and touched by the warmth of hands then put into a dreamlike shape of hopes and promises.
A mold of anticipation and visions, of reverie.
That's it.
That's what I thought.
That the things I thought and the reality I am faced with and will face are both colliding in perfect sense.
Just waiting for the right pair of hands, maybe two pair of hands, or a hundred. Waiting to be molded and conditioned into a dreamlike state of reality.
That's right.
Our dreamlike state of reality.
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