Sierra Mazzucca's Poetry site

None of it matters.
Not in a morbid way.
But we are all performers in the existence of the human play.

We come and go.
Like stars, there is no permanency.
Still even knowing this we choose to limit our visions.
We stray from spontaneity to embrace rigid rules someone wrote in invisible ink.

We are born with playful souls.
We carry that energy through childhood.
Until the day we are told we need grow, we need to plan A-Z.
We need to start causing ourselves anxiety.
Worrying about who we will be. Carefully.
As if seriousness was virtue to humanity.

Like it’s the key to living.
But we stop living free, to become tied up.
Anxious, overworked in a weak human body. That even quicker fades when it’s put under stress and has unattainable expectations many have died to see met.

We make up what is OK and what is not.
Only to break made up rules we follow, because that’s what we were taught.
But why?
Why do we exist, if not to enjoy all of it?
With no limits.
Even the universe enjoys its existence like a free kid.

Bursting stars, rushing waves to shores. Chasing clouds with wind.
When did we become ok with no longer being free to exist just as is.
With no need for an explanation, like children.

We started placing time to hold ourselves accountable for reaching stressful goals.
And for no real reason.
Just because we were shown one way and they called it freedom.
And if we wanted it, we would do as we were told.

But None of it matters when we’re done.
The stressing over who you will become
The guilt over what you haven’t done.
None of it.
Its all unnecessary suffering.
If we can just capture the same free energy as the child, before they were told what their limits would be.

Then the world would be full of curiosity, freedom.
And many more souls would be free without boundaries.
It matters but, not the way we were taught to believe.