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The greatest folly of man must be overzealousness. When given the choice between being praised, being correct or being corrected, being praised is the most appealing.
Humans have instincts as well. After survival, they crave love. When love is denied, a man will find themselves running back to the source of betrayal. Even if their mind tells them they’re being irrational, they cannot stop.
This condition of existence has led to the proposition of hanahaki. Hanahaki is a disease where one denied of love begins growing plants in their lungs. If the feeling of love is not reciprocated, the victim will suffocate from the grasping petals of self-hatred.
While hanahaki is fictional, while it only exists in our minds and in alternate universes, the root of the problem is the same. In the real world, we find ourselves longing for love, until the indifference of another leads to self hatred.
Slowly the internal turmoil of wounded love contorts into a white hot fury, marring the man. The last thing they think of before they close their eyes is the pain. The ringing bell inside their head is the pain.
Every waking moment, every blip of peace, every issue, problem or situation they find themselves in will ultimately lead back to the lack of love they feel, even if it’s imagined.
There are five stages of grief, and they don’t always happen in order. Anger, bargaining, denial, depression and acceptance.
What is grief but the loss of love?
How much can one take before finding everything wrong with themselves, if only to validate the lack of love they feel?
How little love is too little? When does one snap?
If hanahaki is a disease created solely with the intention of showing the mental effects of love-loss in a physical state of one’s body, how then are we to know how much pain one is in, if the consequences aren’t visible?
Empathy is a hard game to play. Human nature is to care for themself and themself only. Philosophers have coined the term, Universe of Obligation. Your universe of obligation includes the people you feel responsible for, yourself at the centre.
If your universe of obligation expands, can it also contract?
Even the most miserly, self-righteous, lonely of mankind feel an inner pain. No one wants to find the world is worse off because of them. However, for some it is easier to find they have a right to be selfish.
They had a bad day, they’re nice all the time, they were born into a position higher than those around them.
Is hate straying from the path, or is it taught?
When a child is nurtured by hate, when loathing is the only thing that coddles them?
When they grow up without a father, with a mother who gets drunk and stays that way, with older siblings who swear and yell and live at their friend’s house, how else will they survive?
Will poems dull the sting of screams? Will sweet songs wipe away the inadequacy? Will calm words stop the smoking, the drinking, the lies?
Author Leigh Bardugo says, “Better terrible truths than kind lies.”
When a child enters this world and enmity is the only thing keeping them afloat, why should they break these habits when they’re thrown into adulthood?
As of March 2023, 46.9 percent of the world is living in poverty. How easy is it to ignore people worse off than us?
How easy to care for only me, myself and I?
One, two, just us few?
Us four and no more?
The reality of the situation is we laugh because if we don’t we’ll cry.
Worse still is the foster system. Casual racism. Sexism. Divorce rights. Stereotypes. War. The cravings of the inner man are self-certification and love. Everything leads back to blackened, neglected love.
The truth is staring us in the eyes.
It’s just easy to ignore it.
Techno frowned as Sam and Puffy led them through the door. There was something… wrong about the animal behind the glass wall. It looked placid and just apathetic, slumped against the barrier.
Its eyes slowly flicked from Sam to Puffy and eventually Techno. The sharp blueness of its irises sent a chill up the piglin’s spine. It was bipedal with lanky limbs and the metal of its muzzle glinted in the light, straps wrapped around its head.
The water and fan blend into an orchestra, accompanying your song.
Your words are intangible, but I hear them perfectly. I can only imagine you bleat the lyrics with all of your heart but they sound soft. Gentle.
It’s a taste of heaven; a taste of love.
I sigh with my ear pressed to the door. What did I do to deserve this gift? What could I have said to earn this?
It’s like a limbo; a purgatory.
I must remain out here where your heart is muffled as it calls out to me. I can only dream of what your song sounds like in there where it’s pure. Where the melody is amplified a thousand times over.
My only fear -- if only for a moment -- is that it will end.
Within a breath it will be over, the verse ripped from my fingers like the death of a kiss.
“It just looks sad,” Techno said before he could stop himself. Puffy hummed, moving forward to unlock the cage.
“Humans are pack animals. It’s why we try to move them through the system as quickly as possible. He’ll be much happier when he imprints, don’t worry.”
The human didn’t even react when Puffy walked in, reaching a hand out; he just placed his paw in her grip and followed passively.
You who I carry within me
You who I watch breathe in for the first time
You who recognizes my voice
You who I hold close to my bosom.
You who I think of every day.
Do You know how much I love You?
Do You know how much You’re worth?
This poem is for You.
Techno’s ear flicked at the sound of Phil’s cane clicking quietly as he stepped forward. The human held the same uninterested look until his gaze panned up to Phil’s face.
Techno knew the exact moment that his eyes met Phil’s. Instead of backing up like most people, the human froze. Techno could perfectly imagine the elytrian’s eyes: glossy, unfocused, and a swirling, glittering grey.
I stand in a line of three; A girl on my right and one on my left. We are dressed the same and breathe together in time. Any differences in height are infinitesimal.
The one to my left has paint smeared all over her face. A pencil is tucked behind her ear, a chef’s hat perched on her head. Beads and bells are woven into her crimson braids, a brown leather satchel slung over her shoulder.
Her eyes shine as their irises flash every shade of the rainbow.
Her mouth moves at a million miles an hour even though there is no sound.
The one to my right is shrouded in shadow. A bandana covers from her nose down. A black hood is pulled over her head. Only a sliver of her copper skin shows. She never speaks. Never moves. All she does is watch.
The human tilted his head to the right slowly, eyes locked with-- or more realistically, on --Phil’s.
Phil chirped quietly, filling the silence. He frowned, presumably when the sound waves bounced back to him.
“Is he scared?” The elytrian asked slowly and softly.
I’ve never seen her, but everyday we look more and more alike.
I stand in the middle, my hands folded neatly in front of me. I am a bridge between two extremes.
When I walk, they walk. When I stop, they copy.
When I cry, three sets of tears are shed.
I stand in a line of three: Six eyes, thirty fingers.
One Heart.
I stand in a line of three, but only I am visible.
Techno paused for a moment until he realised Phil was worried about the human bearing his neck. Techno’s instincts had just accepted the movement as an act of submission from a runt, but elytrons didn’t bear necks. They opted instead to chirp and avoid eye contact.
My legs can hardly carry me
How much is my life worth?
My heart seizes as I think of my legacy.
My wings are not heresy,
they are a part of me.
Why do you tear me apart; why can’t you see?
You are breaking me!
And there’s a shot.
And I am broken.
And I am falling.
You have cut my heart open.
And I am crying.
And my voice has been stolen.
And I am lost.
And I swear I’m not coping.
Because I
Am
Dying.
But then I hear a voice.
And I am cradled as if I were
Precious
Wanted
Treasured
Loved.
And I am lifted
With my eyes set above.
Then I am flying.
Wings outstretched like a dove.
I am not you
But we all bleed red blood.
Despair will push us out like a flood.
I didn’t understand
I was despondent, forlorn.
But hope is like a phoenix.
It must die to be reborn.
Clearly Sam’s brain was moving faster than Techno’s because he chuckled, walking towards the centre of the room.
“Not scared, just confused. Though nerves from being around new people are probably present too.” The human had straightened his head, but his gaze was still firmly on Phil.
“Do you want to…?” Puffy’s sentence trailed off and it took Techno a second to discern that she was addressing him.
With a great, big yawn,
The earth awakens.
It lifts off its covers,
Its blankets of snow,
And its eyes start to twinkle
at the beginning of a new day.
Its long, green hair grows out,
With highlights of purple, yellow, pink.
Its mouth opens
And out comes the chirp and tweet
Of a morning song.
Buzzing bees tickle its cheeks with
their furry, yellow legs.
The Earth rises from its bed
Ready to begin anew.