Sierra Mazzucca's Poetry site

It’s a peculiar thing to stop and think that we are all just chasing some invisible trophy to the end of our earthly human occupancy. Where completion of existence could be looked at as a loss or gain depending on who you’re asking. Racing to a finish line, with said golden cities on the other side, which later we find out doesn’t exist but it allowed us to cope with time. We are programmed from infancy to believe that we are not complete until we have X, Y and Z and then only then will we be happy and free. This is the grand illusion of a destination that creates a perpetual sense that we are always incomplete. It grows a notion that there is always gonna be something missing. We are so focused on the end that the present eludes us and this is the real death , when living while always trying to find something greater than this moment to access. Like the faith we conveniently forget, even after we are woken up day after day and our lungs gifted with breath. We are too blinded by the next step and too self-consumed to accept this is our fate. Running through life like it’s an emergency. Appreciate this time, not the minutes or days that are hopefully ahead or far behind. No rush just letting it flow smoothly in Its own way. No explanations, no justification needed as that is not a bridge but a cage to the deepest parts of your brain. It’s a peculiar thing when you stop and think the only race in my world has been led by me. There might be more to this life than the human eyes can see, but the wonderful thing about true faith, is the trusting in your decision choosing this body to live and participate.

By Sierra Mazzucca