There is a sweet fire of passion
Raging inside you,
Burning flames behind your eyes,
And the breath is pumping in my chest
Like a terrible reckoning
As you urge my legs to rise
And my tongue to speak a little
Of the vast universe growing
In your cage of skin.
We are cages of skin,
With tiny universes held within
Stars and galaxies expanding at the speed of light
Threatening the boundaries of hair and limbs.
We are more than just these corporeal forms:
Spirits, our minds greater than
The material bodies we occupy,
We are of the stars
In the vast and limitless beyond.
Do not waste the vast majority of your life doing something you hate so that you can spend the small remainder sliver of your life in modest comfort. You may never reach that end anyway.
Resist the temptation to get a job. Instead, play. Find something you enjoy doing. Do it. Over and over again. You will become good at it for two reasons: you like it, and you do it often. Soon, that will have value in itself.
“Maybe… you’ll fall in love with me all over again.” “Hell,” I said, “I love you enough now. What do you want to do? Ruin me?” “Yes. I want to ruin you.” “Good,” I said. “That’s what I want too.”—Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell to Arms (via stxxz)