Some Truth About Art And The Universe Poem by Mostafa Didar

I thought about achieving perfection all these years but the truth is everyone just wants to get by.
Everyone gets by, by lying differently, tailoring and masking their lies into different colors and forms and selling discrete parts of themselves.

I hate artists that lie to tell the truth.
You tell the truth, whether you like it or not and live with the consequences.

That is art in itself.

Be-careful while going down this road because you will be criticized, talked about and judged because part of being such a fascinating being is facing criticism, sulking and owning up to it.
As rational human beings, gifted with consciousness that transcend the ordinary and comprehensible space-time boundaries we can seek for the truth but the truth is never binary. It's somewhere in between, quantized, and ready to be discovered with advancements in cultural, physiological, evolutionary and technological domains of that specific space-time.

So we are all indeed prisoners of the time we are living in.
We use drugs, sex, suicide, love to get away from the gruesome burdens of reality but the truth is there is no escape. You are stuck in a loop, which iterates till infinitum.

We cross paths with disheveled souls, prisoners of their own space-time, in our lives that help us understand, a little better. Parts of those souls are somehow entangled to yours, words that cannot be understood by common sense alone as described by the greatest minds of our time. Souls who when you meet, you feel neurons fire omni-directionally, causing hap-hazard motions and movements inside your mind, surging your serotonin, dopamine, oxytocin and other magic chemical levels in your brain. Souls that act as gravity that hold your space and time together. I don't understand enough quantum mechanics to finish this essay, but what I am trying to say is, in life you meet some people, who feel like home, who give you a warm fuzzy feeling when it's cold, who make butterflies go wild in your stomach, and sometimes make you want to throw up.

Fight for those people, Give everything for them, because without gravity, even the largest stars devour themselves and collapses causing a dent in the fabric of space-time continuum, resulting in super-massive black holes where even time stops still.
Boundless, dimensionless, we get hurled towards the abyss, we travel through it, inside-out, and come out of the other end, reborn, our clocks reset, our identities erased, our need for lust subjugated.

We are born again, as different warriors of a more uncanny habitat, a universe which owes us nothing. We learn to speak it's language, we learn to sing and dance to it's music but one thing is for certain, we are never the same again. We still need to adjust and develop to it's rules and design. We become beings, beasts, of a different time.
But then we feel ticks, and ripples, finding its way from a source very similar to us. The little kid inside of us, wanting to be free. A similar weakness, a similar taste, giving us a Déjà vu like feeling, which has traveled right through the very fabric that holds these multiple universes together. Stars colliding at supernatural rates to make the impossible, possible, just so that we find our gravity and the universes find their balance.
A perfect harmony, between all of our past, present and future selves.

It's up-to us now, to decide what we want to do with our time and space, adding more dimensions as we go along, by contributing to this grand design, not that it needs anything in return, but to find the right words to describe our beautiful, yet petrifying existence.