My blood is always boiling;
For more, for bigger, for better.
For the realizations of existence; for the Truth of my Soul;
my blood is always boiling.
For the freedom of my ancestors past and for the freedom of my species now.
From the touch of an ancient gift to the revolution that my people once fought,
my blood will never stop boiling.
Reality as we’ve known it to be has always been a game of capture the flag;
a game of: who gets it? who gets it?
And instead of fostering anything, like life, love, freedom;
all we have done is take. And take. And take.
Until one day, there’ll be nothing left.
One never gets it all— that’s the game.
See once someone wins, the game is over. The board is cleared and reset for a new game to start.
The winner never takes it all but puts the pieces back in place for the next time around.
My blood boils as if it’s waiting for something to cook.
It simmers on clear days and bubbles over when the flame is set too high.
My blood boils until the game is over; until the food is ready; until the Truth is apparent.
It boils until the taste is just right and we’re all sitting around the table to enjoy the meal.
And when that time comes, the game board will be reset and our plates will be cleared;
waiting for a new game, our next meal,
setting my blood to boil
once again.
the endless cycles of Samsara//the blood of a witch//a history of revolution