It’s the sensitive who create new worlds,
and the numb who reinforce old worlds.
Even if a dying world is held together
by a small string,
a sliver of denial that would rather die
in a hall of mirrors,
than be reborn into the light of truth,
to those who have chosen numbness,
that sliver of denial remains their sun.
The sensitive create new worlds, new societies, new philosophies,
because their bodies’ remembered from the minute they were born,
that something was off-kilter.
The love we so deeply knew,
was fragmented,
diced into small pieces of forgotten potential.
Teachers taught us how to memorize,
and the news taught us how to pathologize truth.
We were the outcasts, the stunned rejects that constantly thought -
this is not it… it can’t be it.
Society cannot be meaningless.
Truth cannot always remain shrouded in deception.
The purpose of life must not be to work, sleep, and die.
The sensitive always knew
that this world couldn’t maintain itself.
After all, a cyclical pattern of repeated numbness
is nothing to live for…
Nor die for.
We humans have souls.
And the sensitive one’s remember
that life was never intended to be mechanized.
That love, was never a concept meant to corner others,
but a pathway to liberate one’s soul.
The outcasts, the sensitive one’s,
they became the sculptures,
the architects,
the ones who dared to remember
the love that this old world tried so desperately
to suppress.
The dreamers spoke their dreams
and the architects brought those dreams to life.
And the old world faded into the distant horizon
as a new world grew from the minds of those
who dared to remember.
Art - Kuba Ambrose and Vera Atlantia