Pot of life

We’re living stuffed animals, our ritual is merely to attempt to forget the dreadful past but live each day practicing history. We’re living stuffed animals, our actions are made of our individual benefits attempting to be on the top but living each day concerned on what our foes are doing. We’re living stuffed animals, sceptical of whom we have around us but have the audacity to see relatives live in poverty. We’re stuffed animals we’re stuffed animals we’re merely concerned of our own personal desires; we’re building walls with what is meant to connect us, we’re distancing ourselves with what is meant to get us closer, we’re destroying the history with what is meant to revive the moment and we’re forgetting the moment with what is meant we help us reminisce.

A pot of gold, a pot of silver a pot of joy. A cook a chef. A decision a lifetime journey. A friend a foe. A divine moment a dreadful moment. A laugh a tear. A heart beat a pot of gold a pot of silver a pot of joy.

We’re living in repetition and not in change and we’re constantly fuelling the cycle we’re stuck in.

A life a death. A grown man a young man. A pain a smile. A pot of gold a pot of gold.