A Photograph

Makiling and cows

The beauty of a poem
Is not in the words chosen
Or the rhythm
Or metaphors
Or syllables
Or in the sounds
Of hands applauding
From behind the reader’s eyes

It is not even in the breath
That flows within the poet
As he breathes out the words

No, we cannot know for sure
for the beauty of a poem
He alone sees it

No one else can

And it has to be that way
For he who cannot see beauty
by himself
Cannot show the world

A Thought

There is no single purpose everyone must follow, and it is highly plausible that the universe has no predetermined destiny for each of us.

What seems to the case is that we enter life with a tabula rasa, and we create what we paint on it. An evidence for this might be the fact that as children, we don’t think about purpose. In fact, We only think about purpose when we are existentially lost—something a child is incapable of doing simply because a child is incapable of being existentially lost. A child follows what feels good and interesting.

A Quote

You only need to know the direction, not the destination.

The direction is enough to make the next choice.

— James Clear

A Question

If you could instill one piece of advice in a newborn baby, what would it be?


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