Humanity is a tapestry. Each of us our own stitch in existence.
Humanity is a broken mirror. Crevices abound and our reflection is nowhere near perfect.
Humanity is an orchestra. Alone we may make beautiful music, but together there is beauty that touches the soul.
To be human is a complicated formula with no perfect solution. We try in vain. We vex ourselves over the course of our lives and never get it perfect.
Humanity is an amalgamation of misfit toys stranded on an island, longing for love lost, and finding it in each other.
I once wrote, ‘I walked a line once blurred between reality and the absurd. The line is razor thin, but I will never be that man again.’ It is a comforting lie we tell ourselves. Always striving for greatness. Always falling short with pet skeletons in our closet.
Vagabond. One who wanders. No home to speak of, yet making the most of where they are at night.
Identities change, whether out of necessity, or the toll of life. What about the in between? The unknown flux one is not aware of in the moment until they are on the other side?
If my house had a name, I would call it Void. Free on its own with nothing to offer, yet it somehow brings others in. A mystery still unsolved.
Humanity is brokenness and I am the man who walks amidst the cracks.
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