How much are we what we write about
Our thoughts are simply quite complex
Sometimes we are a bundle of contradictions
We may begin to write on a whim
As fancy may catch us sometimes
But we are steered by the thoughts that we think
Sometimes remembered reflections
Sometimes in propulsion of passions
Sometimes aimless fired by default
Sometimes in self awareness
Combining experiences in the life and living.
Within set standards in conformity or in whimsical sentimentality
Where is the turning point?
Where we assemble our thoughts
Amidst the jumble of arising waves
What distinguishes our thoughts
That flow from us in words
To arrange itself in this self arranging life.
In our fractality there is fragility
As much as rigourousness of rigidity
Raising righteousness in morality
Of conscientiousness in the wake of integrity.
And there is no denying the dedication
In single minded focus
In pursuing a thought home
Manifesting through words
Conveyed with a purpose.
In feelings and factuality
Peeling through the layers
There is much of us in what we write
And yet so much a figment of pure imagination
The words may carry our thoughts
But take on a form of their own…
Shaping up as stories
Letting there be a mystery
For all to read and fathom
Of how much is true
And what is fictional?🙂