Footer
the presencepulse
— a newsletter for conscious minds. Every Sunday morning, you'll get 1 guiding tip to recognize, understand, and accept the power of your presence in less than 4 minutes.
Enter your email and sign up for free right now.
Enter your email and sign up for free right now.
When the plethora of perspectives lose perspective we are left in the cold.
F*ck it… one more perspective won’t make it any worse. The fury of sitting idle waiting for an explanation when perspectives defeat reason is debilitating.
7:30 am came and the sun is yet to show itself. My hands were still shivering, and no golden rays were to be seen. My body was left to the bitter numbness unattended. Even the hot cup of tea got frosty.
That’s how my world is this week. The warmth I seek keeps running late. Thus, my words aren’t coherent anymore so there is no false pretense to hide behind to justify, give reason, or perspectives.
Instead, I will leave it to poetry to speak on my behalf until words start making sense.
The fire burns by Carlo Mahfouz
Same night came the death of the solemn anarchy of humanity, the shameless hour that scars in bloody lashes against the boiling ashes of dignity
Fearless cried the crow plucking what’s left from sight, for seeing is no longer a state of being in the endless shower of this and that fight
The honeydew savors the sweetness of recklessness in the minds of sickness brought from a lack of sensibility and mindlessness
Masters of nothing and deciders of all kid thy selves in this charade of being in a circus of a freak show unfolding with nothing to sow
Barely anything left to say and no more comes in the agony of dealing with and against a zeal synonym of frailty in the fall of the seal that binds all feelings
The fire burns, the ashes suffocate the helpless and the mindless on a short leech devouring themselves in an endless rampage running behind glory in turns.
After more than 12 hours of waiting for news, my niece was born and I became an uncle. On a backdrop I don’t even want to express, my warmth finally came in a small bundle of joy that lit my parents eyes with new life.
The perspective governing the narrative died in the glimmer of a naked body born out of immense love to a world I am afraid of. Thus is the reality of this cold winter living off the carcasses of perspectives to keep us waiting for the warmth that we deserve.
The words will come. And by then I hope no one prevails for as long as I remember that story only ends in a romanced reality filled with perspectives of heroes and villains while it truly lacks any substance that justifies either.
Until next time,
Carlo