The universal concept of peace involves a feeling of well being, the feeling of contentment and the feeling of ultimate happiness. Greenery, soft calm winds that gently caress your cheek, standing on a hill overlooking a beautiful sunset that leaves one in awe are normally associated with this concept. I fail to see the legitimacy of such a claim. It might be true for some people but it is hardly true for me.
I find peace in thunderstorms when the roaring winds blow away your thoughts. I find comfort in raging rapids where the rivers know of nothing but the rendezvous they have to keep with God. I feel at home when the rain is coming down in sheets and the torrential downpour is bringing the Heaven’s down. There is peace in the way the clouds cry and cry and let all the misery become Heaven for the people below them. When the volcano erupts and the gushing heat turns the sky into purgatory, when the lava sizzles down a volcano as a river does but bringing a completely different effect and when it cannot contain the gurgling monster inside it anymore and must show it’s true colors of Hell-that is when my heart feels happy and content. My heart loves to sky dive and bungee jump. It likes roller-coasters with many loops that go up and down with the speed of your thoughts. It chases cheetahs in African Savannas and crackles like lightning. It finds pleasure in loud thoughts in silent nights and billion questions and dark pleas. It likes the busy cities where the intoxicated smog clouds their beauty as it’s sins cloud the heart. It likes congested roads and crowded rooms with Victorian buildings in complete contrast with the atmosphere they are in. It likes disheveled unearthly things
It is angry and agitated and misunderstood. It is unloved and not cared for and alone. We all find comfort when someone finally understands and the storms and volcanoes know my story. My mind is a disaster with all the emotions and thoughts banging in my head making me dizzy. I need something to have the same dizziness I do. I need the comfort of knowing I am not the only tragedy. I need to be reminded I am powerful and strong and this agitation can change into winds and rivers and volcanoes. I can be the force I want to. I am rock and roll and that electric guitar solo. I’m fireworks and loud music. I want my body to blend, to mix and mingle and waltz with things that resemble it. The angst inside cannot be quenched by daisies in a field, rather the daisies might just be destroyed. No one wants to ruin perfection. The problem is, perfection is not me. Perfection is plastic and material. It is for god and good people. To the rest of us it brings only misery
“Yes, the flowers are heavenly to look at and the soft winds murmur melodies of peace.
The trees refresh the tired soul
But that isn’t where my heart is at ease.
Sure people love these little pieces of Heaven and for the record I do too,
But have you ever stopped to wonder
What if Heaven just wasn’t for you?”