You thought God was an architecht and now you know

You thought God was an architect, now you know, he is something like a pipe bomb ready to blow

What’s the point if we aren’t praying for something? Anything.
Believing in yourself, your mother, brother, sister or father.
What’s the point if we aren’t loving?
Loving something: one another/ each other
You can build up an empire and say,

“Hey! When I finally get that book published. I’ll be worth something.”

“When I finally sell my art then people, PEOPLE, they’ll know my name.”
“When I finally publish that record and sell out that show I’ll be the person I was meant to be.”

And less creative individuals will gawk in awe at what you created. The way we gawk in awe or turn our heads in disgust at their $700,000+ homes and yachts.

We’re building something, hoarding it, like angry little ants waiting for something larger than us to step in our pile and blow it all up.

That time between resurrection or death is really just a grey waiting space for something larger and bigger than us to accidentally trip over our hill and knock it all down. Whether we like it, like the mosquito who flew too close to your face. We’re are all bound to get smacked around a little bit.

And I never want to be selfish again. And it’s not that I was ever a bad person and it’s not that people are bad people. And it’s not even that you or I are good now. Because we all have light and we all have dark. And we all have emotions: fear, disgust, sadness, anger and joy. And maybe, it’s that some people have experienced different environment’s and traumas that make them like the snake.

A dangerous predator. But that snake is not evil and it isn’t bad. It is just surviving.

And really that’s the point of it all. Survival. We have to survive. Together.

So, it’s not about the book sales, or your 401k or the hot rod. Because when we make life about those things we’re nothing more than the mean, angry ants biting, crawling inside your socks and un-mercifully attack your feet.

When we make it all about the stuff, your this or your that. The what you did or didn’t do. What you should or shouldn’t have bought.

We begin surviving for those things and we stop surviving for each other/ one another.

And I’ve built myself an empire. I’ve hoarded and stored and became like the angry little ant. I thought I was the architect, and I realized I was nothing more than a pipe bomb ready to blow. Ready to explode and lose the things I believed where always going to be there: my friends, my family, my self and my humanity.

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