Left to it's own, it's power can leave cities in crumbles and worlds torn apart. Focused and aware, it brings forth life in the most violent of manners, not unlike that Creativity that births everything that is and will be.
There is this one thing in life, controllable and manipulated: Awareness.
Our thoughts, our hopes, our wants and desires, our fears, our insecurities, everything -- mothers of action, their children receive all of the attention.
The present is all that we touch and all that we know. The future will always be the future, an untouchable creature dressed in all that we crave.
I find Direction, here, at the center of the universe:
Heaven does not strive, and yet it overcomes.
It does not speak, and yet is answered.
It does not ask, yet is supplied with all its needs.
It seems to have no aim and yet its purpose is fulfilled.
It is natural for things to unfold as they should. Always.
Lost in translation, I grasp at everything but my awareness, destroying cities and tearing worlds apart in the process. I am the Creator of this confusion, this pain. I turn around to find the past running off, having raped my present, and as I turn to see him, it is myself that I find running away.
I act when the world is ruled by letting things take their course. It cannot be ruled by interfering. When nothing is done, nothing is left undone... and so I wait, pregnant but not expecting, enjoying the mystery and being always surprised.