How imagination made us, but also broke us..

07:12


Blessed day everyone!

"Just try to imagine how difficult it would have been to create states, churches, or legal systems if we could speak only about things that really exsist, such as rivers, trees and lions." - Sapiens

Imagination is one crazy thing. It helped us create all these amazing things that surround us, made our lives richer in so many ways, but oh man did it fuck us up. I bet the person who started to think beyond what exsisted, was a.) definitely a woman, and b.) a woman who was sick and tired of picking up berries and wanted for a man to try a bit harder to get her, than just to hunt a rabbit for dinner. After that was achieved the possibilities were endless, and look how far we've came. I have no Ph. D. in history (or in anything - shocking I know), but I'm sure we can agree that's very likely how it all went down.

But as much as imagination turned out to be one of the greatest things ever, having no control over it is where it shows it's flaws. I can hold my liquor, I know when to stop when gambling (when I loose my $20), I never caved in to heavy drugs or coffee, but man am I an addict when it comes to imagining things that some part of me knows are never going to happen. Is it the constant hope that keeps me doing that or I a part of me just really truly enjoys torturing myself? I've always wondered that. Idiot.

Now, you know when I said a while ago I want to get into poetry? Well I have been practicing ever since, and I feel like there might be some potential there, but then again..how does one know if a poem is an actual poem? What makes a poem? And most of all, what makes it a good one? I know when I read other poems, and I guess it's just how anyone takes it as an individual..

I wrote a bunch, but most of them are super personal and current, and in no way am I embarrassed for turning my feelings into a poem, or writing them down in any form, but I am embarrassed to show them at this certain time. So I definitely will when the wind blows away, if that makes sense. But anyways, here it is, the most neutral of them all, the simplest first try.. and be gentle 

If I close my eyes
I can almost taste
the mediterranean air
I lived 
and breathed for
for 15+ years of my life.

I open them
 and see 
the big buildings
rising up
from behind green trees
sorounding me.

- STILL CONFUSED HOW SEGUALS MADE IT TO CANADA


P.S. I'd be happy to hear your thoughts about it, is this how poem is supposed to sound/look/feel like? Does it makes sense? I hope it does..it made such sense to me when I wrote it hehe

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