How Like the Contents is the Vessel

Consider that a piece of paper is nothing.

White and empty, thin and flimsy,

Carried by the wind and grasped by any hand.

It has no power to choose its captor,

No choice to be abused,

It simply awaits the day that it is picked and set and used.

It has no heart to hope for better,

A great blessing in my eyes,

For if it fails it fails for others, others and others alone.

The curse of it is that it takes what others give no matter what it is,

It takes it all until it becomes an altered reflection,

The kind that people do not have to see if they do not care to,

And thus they can lie and lie and lie again.

Consider that a piece of paper can be made into something great,

It gives meaning to a life, it heals hearts and fulfills a soul,

When crafted into wonder by careful, caring, thinking minds,

It becomes a thing of purpose,

It becomes a grand design.

It does not know its power, which is like most things in this world,

Yet its power is known by others — it heals all, not the crafter alone.

Consider that paper stacks in piles thousands and thousands high,

And wonder how many of them are worth your mind and eyes.

If you have hope, if you have faith,

If you choose blindness over sight,

Then perhaps you’ll believe that most are good,

Or that most have even tried.

Yet if you read them one by one, pick each up and weigh its words,

You’ll find so very few that actually speak.

Or says something that must be heard.

It’s funny how the world works, I say this though I’m young.

For I think most people understand that paper is nothing,

It grants no gifts, it heals no pain, its useless and its weak,

I think most people see that its words that give such power,

They see one vessel empty, needing meaning from its store,

They do not see that words are a vessel, carrying something else inside each piece,

It carries soul, care, meaning, love…it carries you within,

So empty is the paper, even blackened by a scrawl,

When one awaits the words to give,

And gives of themself not at all.

 

*I want to ask God a simple question, not if I’m getting in.  I don’t care about that right now.  I’m aiming to be a good person as best I can.  I am only human and so I suppose I can’t suspend my desires forever.  Actually, I suppose I can’t ask God a thing, cuz I’d ask too much too often, it will all spill out.  But if you’re curious what I’d ask….I’d ask when the blows would stop coming, if letting my heart be battered by people like a punching bag is hurting Him and my chance for him to respect me.  I would ask if the people one associates with, no matter the reason, good or bad, if those people color me so much in his eyes?  Am I tainted?  Am I defiled by them?  These are strong words, but I need to be strong….people tell me all the time that I use "hate" to frequently, that it’s too strong a word. 

All I can say is, if I can’t have intense passion than all the pain inside of me will have no vent and I will break apart.  I’m already breaking holding back everything that I do.  There’s a lot I want to say but all it would do is hurt others and upset them and blah blah blah.  I wish I knew anything for certain.  I wish I could step outside my own mind and know whether it’s me that is making myself tired, my expectations, demands, and dreams….or if it really is the way it feels, and the people I deal with are just kicking the living shit out of my soul.  What does it much matter anymore?

I think I’ve never considered suicide because people are going to kill me just as quick and probably more effectively.

 EDIT:

I know I said in my last entry that I was caring a little less, but that was a lie.  Instead, I’ve come to not expect good things from people.  I have no faith in most anymore.  I’ve not stopped caring.  I’ve just stopped trying to do the things that made me a hopeful person.  Welcome to the Steve Buscemi from "Ghost World" years of my life.  What a god damn delight this is.