Day 2385, eight billion.

Daily picture, Poetry

Have you ever stood still while having the thought that there are eight billion people on this earth with eight billion ways of looking at the same world as you do and live in? 

Eight billion ways to process all of this information and at least eight billion ways of believing what is processed. 
Eight billion people that, by design, have to experience themselves as the center of their world. 

Eight billion people conversating with themselves and finding words to decipher their beliefs. 

Eight billion people who believe that they are alone in the world but still cling to the hope that there is another that will understand...them.  

Eight billion people that close their eyes every night, helpless like we all are in our sleep.

Eight billion people who are only equal in their silence.

Day 2287, resentment.

Day's pictures, Poetry

My façade might look dirty to you

my thoughts inside to dark


but you holy man

with your mowed lawns and trimmed thoughts

a fifth column of tyrants disguised  


you might find the likes of mine

everywhere and detest

pouring your world of petty resentment

into our rejection


you might seem to win

for now

and await the return of the heimat

and 1933

but the young of mind will more than ever

forget your past


and deny all of us your hateful gods


progress is not just a word

an act

or a wish

it’s something that happens

rolling downhill to a better place