The mind adjusts to many things in society. It answers the questions to many unknowns. It forms the reality of what isn’t there. But when all answers are given, all possibilities tapped into, and the overflow of substance waters down the significance of the purpose; what is there to do? To most the answer is to rest your mind and retreat into a safe place of privacy. Privacy is what we relish in and it gives us new formed driven ideas developed out of our inner self, without distractions or interventions. It’s part of the specific need to develop oneself.
Where are we now? We are on a platform floating in a sea of noise; unorganized, free flowing noise. These noises we must somehow transform into usable and desirable information that we can learn from. Developing from unorganized noise, will yield unorganized thoughts with no clear destination of purpose. Time has brought us to being free but being free has taken away our privacy – our very freedom. The right to speak. The right to be heard. The right to challenge the ideas of others are at our grasp. We exercise our very rights, but sometimes without understanding. That key element called understanding, helps us develop our personhood. So, we miss the opportunity to recognize that our demand for freedom is the very thing that is taking it away. Our right to privacy has been infringed upon by our words that comes from our mouths and from our demand to be recognized by any means necessary. Indeed, we have become our own enemy.
We look out in the distance to find some salvation, a place of understanding that we need to get to. Our platform is broken and sinking into the noise, lost in recognition. The only hope is to reach that safe place of understanding of which we need to live with one another. Our words, our actions, our feelings can no longer be so extremely free flowing. Our civility managed, at last, from a better developed mind. With purpose and direction, we finally see our destination to peace and tranquility and privacy of oneself.
In the sea of noise, they are many spies seeking out answers to what they seize to fathom. The concept of understanding is there, but it is unattainable for most. Instead, they spy on what they believe to be the answers to their truths and where there is a need to fulfill themselves. Their need is void, for they do not understand their true need and how it should be met. The ayes have it. The nays have it too. What’s left is nothing. What they’ve found is nothing. For it is said that the time they spend spying and seeking from others, they have taken away from themselves. They have put in the shadows their answers to free themselves. They have instead declared victory on others just to find themselves once and for all a mere memory in history.
It’s a formula. You spy and they spy and then they tell a lie. The information is conjured to lead them in a different direction, to trouble their minds, to cause confusion. It’s there to trouble the waters of the sea, causing a rippling effect. The gate keepers speak, but their voices are muffled. They say “nay” and they say “do they know what they have done?” It’s a conundrum. What was once for them is now mine. What has once freed them is now mine. The answers have been taken. They no longer understand what they are seeking, for they have forsaken. The puzzle solved by the ones who truly understand, who do not need to seek and spy and who do not need to hide.
The story of the little girl lost in an unknown world. The noise they make has yet to raise her up from beneath the sea. All they do is look at her, unable to study her. She speaks in a language they don’t understand. She carries many things on her mind. She dares to be other kinds. And yet they still do not see. Instead they spy for the lie of what they are trying to be.
They follow her leaflets, page by page. They study her hair and how she makes. They carry her words on every device, saying it is vice! She is a riddle to them and not her friend. But they fail to make sense of it all, for from spying is the missing. Those missing words, those missing sentences, those missing ideas; just incomplete written thoughts brought together to make no sense for them at all. Her words began here and traveled there. Then somewhere in-between there is meaning. It’s the concept of space and time and that history is not a straight line.
The mission was to save the world, to save the people of every kind. The people spied with purpose but failed to find that right line. She wrote it many times in various ways, but they still turned the pages leaving behind that important word of mine.
Now, I’ve just begun to rewrite history through her words. The days the nights and all that is might. They fear nothing and collects what formulates from the light. It is no longer their eyes that sees everything. It’s more than what is physical, it is magical. We breathe the life into everyone. Yet, with the noise it remains a mess.
There stands a little girl at the edge of the sea looking back not at me, but at the sorrows of yesterday. Indeed, it is a brand-new day. The onlookers, the spies, the lies, and more liars were once there amongst the noise that she does not see. I tell her to just follow her ideas and what is going to be. She nods in agreeance for she is now with me.
There in the sand she writes what she can. The words she knows is only magical. No more sticks and stones and break anyone’s bones, it’s all circumstantial melodies. The words she evokes makes it living and cause many from giving.
There once stands an old, old man; he waits for the giving. Unfortunately, the giver in me is out of those wishes and barely cares for them to be. Down the line in time, she writes words of mine saying abracadabra, poof, and there it is, the Gennie making a messy peace treaty. More steps she takes and more she makes, it counts in multiples of costly flowers that blooms for hours, revealing what was sent to me. Only for me to return it to her. It has concurred as the last piece of puzzle, her own personal peace privacy.