The apathetic deal with their emotions by not touching them.
Thoughts, what thoughts?
They turn feeling into physicality
Some say its a brute, primal way.
But it's genius,
To recycle the bad
Into ultimate good.
To not feel
Is very human.
The world says,
How pitiful are those who let their emotions run free.
Those whom release attributes that natural selection did not plan for,
That survival will not support.
Yet we call this living.
To hurt is to live.
To be at an unknown
A beautiful mind speaks what is inside
But a mind that survives
Beauty withers in the presence of life.
As the beautiful bird becomes prey
The bird with silent colors lives until the end.
To the end of the world?
To the end of time?
For the beautiful never live to see it.
The end comes to them suddenly,
Constructs of life are made clear or their minds are made
Beauty can not survive.
It never has.
Humanity regresses with this connection
Attempting to find the soul,
The beauty of life.
Forgetting about survival
They grasp to connect with an inner self
Something they believe to be of some worth.
When physical life deteriorates
The spiritual life is born,
Grasping at a last chance
To be beautiful.
Taking the mesmerizing hand
Of certain death
Forgetting the condition of survival
For the curse of beauty
In all it's forms.
We minds are beautiful.
We minds will be crushed by this beauty.
We minds will die.