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I am weak.
I am human. I bare the gift and the burden of consciousness… 
...Of utility, logic, lucidity.
I am someone just like you
But you're nothing like anyone
We’re all new. 
Every thing
New.

some of it is bitter, some succulent
But it's all fresh, and ripe
Some of it kills you, torments you
Because you're human
And you're weak. 
And it is what it is, and perhaps someday it will also be killed.
Some of it makes you stronger, makes you happy
As is the cycle of everything in existence

But what makes you weak? 
It’s not death. 
Death is a door. 
It’s not pain. 
Most of those with pain 
fight it which gives them strength
Pain has many translations
Many forms and colors
Without consciousness, would we still feel pain?
Without coherence, can we still be troubled?

I can say that if I were born away
From anything humane these thoughts wouldn’t haunt me
But I, we, fight it every day
alienated 
despite being equivalent to a colony of ants

Typical wounds growing in irregular people
who are at war with their minds
who want to find themselves
and the world, and the divine
Who want to find the beauty in every horror, 
in every page of every sad story
and make peace with the fact that they must endure
whatever is to come
between now and death which for all of us is impending
and make the most of it, make it right
make change 
to better the human race 
which you fear is a failure
to life itself.
to encounter and confront these conscious coherent bearings displays strength

so what makes you weak would reside in this strength
in the moments between
where you fail to emit
the divine energy born within everything;
love.

there is an off button, and it goes off sometimes
and we remember the sufferings of the world
and we forget that suffering is part of what brings strength
the off button is our faith, our hope, our acceptance.
the off button is what makes us weak.

how can I be strong?
How can i take away someone's suffering?
how can I keep faith and hope,
how can I find acceptance
to get through?

we all have to find a way through
between the boundaries of the ugly and the beautiful
old and new
acceptance is a place
of belonging, of embrace
of remark and disregard
to disassociate, to oppose
and accept.

It’s beyond religion. It’s beyond worldly fixings.
But once I get through,
I find that place,
I can be true.
I'll be strong.

So can you.
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