If you have never stood on the edge of the ocean, never felt the sun warming your skin with kisses, never inhaled the salty air, or picked shells off the beach, you can be perfectly content in a wheat field. If you have never stood in a wheat field, danced with the gently swaying stocks,inhaled the musky grain smell, and
baked fresh bread you can be perfectly content in a forest. If you have never stood at the base of a tree so old its top spans beyond sight, its base wider than a car, never climbed up its branches to see the wonder below, you can be happy on a couch. If you have never ventured out the door to taste the bitter sweet success that is love, never felt the warmth of compassion, the joy of a strangers smile. If you have never taken the time to live, you can be perfectly content simply waiting to die. The cruelity of the joke Ignorance is Bliss is knowledge is never unlearned. Once you have stood in the shadow of dream long enough to feel even a glimpse of its warmth, letting go is not an option. So what then is to be of ones who are not ignorant? Live the tortured existence of knowing what is unattained or try to become ignorant? Either existence is simply resigning to death and waiting for flesh to oblidge. When you look at a bird, do you still wish you could fly?
baked fresh bread you can be perfectly content in a forest. If you have never stood at the base of a tree so old its top spans beyond sight, its base wider than a car, never climbed up its branches to see the wonder below, you can be happy on a couch. If you have never ventured out the door to taste the bitter sweet success that is love, never felt the warmth of compassion, the joy of a strangers smile. If you have never taken the time to live, you can be perfectly content simply waiting to die. The cruelity of the joke Ignorance is Bliss is knowledge is never unlearned. Once you have stood in the shadow of dream long enough to feel even a glimpse of its warmth, letting go is not an option. So what then is to be of ones who are not ignorant? Live the tortured existence of knowing what is unattained or try to become ignorant? Either existence is simply resigning to death and waiting for flesh to oblidge. When you look at a bird, do you still wish you could fly?
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