I recognized myself in this text, especially when I connected it to something I recently wrote about grief. I’m always trying to see the best in people, to bring forward the positive memories of those who are gone. I see the whole plate, while after someone dies, it often feels like only the seed seems to matter.
While I understand the concern about materialism and moral decline, I’m not sure the past was as pure as we sometimes imagine. Greed and corruption have always existed, what may have changed is our awareness of them.
I think all artists feel this way at some point, at some stage in their journey. It’s hard to put things into words, onto a page. It’s hard to turn every idea into art. For me, being able to separate those ideas, not letting them get lost in the chaos of the mind and everyday life, and transforming them into art is an act of courage. Sometimes I feel like I could drown in my own melancholy and forget to do something meaningful with it. Congratulations on your writing, it’s beautiful, poetic, and the metaphor is perfect. Keep writing. :)
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