Sometimes I wander to the back of my skull.
Where there's fields of fire and every shadow's still chasing me home.
I whisper softly to myself to just forget these dreams.
I'm laying dormant barely breathing under endless sleep.
The faint reflections of myself I'm calmly staring back.
Into the void of clouds dressed in black.
Mind locked from the inside, my vacant soul.
Open the night and swallow me whole.
The garden, once fair, became cold and foul,Like the corpse of her who had been its soul,Which at first was lovely as if in sleep,Then slowly changed, till it grew a heapTo make men tremble who never weep.
A very small excerpt from an amazing work called "The Sensitive Plant" by Percy Bysshe Shelley
I interpret it as a metaphoric and romanticized account of the cycle of life
Some people really find happiness in God or calmness idk. I have a religious friend and his says all of his problems are in God's hands. I could never really feel like that. It must be a relief. No judgment at all, just thinking outloud.
“I believe in everything until it's disproved. So I believe in fairies, the myths, dragons. It all exists, even if it's in your mind. Who's to say that dreams and nightmares aren't as real as the here and now?” ― John Lennon
Believe nothing,
No matter where you read it,
Or who has said it,
Not even if I have said it,
Unless it agrees with your own reason
And your own common sense. Buddha