What If We Stop Looking At The Big Picture And Realise That The Picture Isn't Complete Without Us. What

What if we stop looking at the big picture and realise that the picture isn't complete without us. What if we simply become a part of the picture we are trying so hard to create?

Aren't all things in this universe or multiverse whatever you believe in, blended and merged together ?

Aren't we all a mixture of everything we know and don't know exists ?

Aren't we all a part of what we are searching and creating?

Weren't we born from chaos ? Then how do we assume that making order out of this world of chaos is gonna help us ?

Wouldn't embracing and encouraging this chaos both inside and outside your grasp make you happier ?

Why do we try to understand things we cannot even begin to fathom?

Who, How, What and When are all the questions we ask to others and ourselves all day everyday.

And why? Nobody knows.

Perhaps we humans are a magical mistake created not by choice or order but chaos all around.

Nobody knows.

We are a manifestation of something majestic and vastly chaotic. A bunch of mortal beings trying to create order out of this chaotic world around us in a very short span of life.

little miss obsessed with love but doesn't believe it will happen to her

Hello!

How would you explain

Say surrender. Say alabaster. Switchblade.

Honeysuckle. Goldenrod. Say autumn.

Say autumn despite the green

in your eyes. Beauty despite

daylight. Say you’d kill for it. Unbreakable dawn

mounting in your throat.

My thrashing beneath you

like a sparrow stunned

with falling. ???

This has got to be one of my favorite stanzas of Ocean’s. Its sheer beauty and the effortless easiness with which these words leave one’s mouth never cease to amaze me. Saying that I’ve thoroughly grasped the meaning of these words would be a lie.

But if I try to explain the ideas that float around the chambers of my brain while reading these lines, the explanation will be something along these lines.

Say surrender. Say alabaster. Switchblade.

The first line is him talking about yielding to destruction, yielding to stasis, coming the terms with the fact that the destructed and yet somehow destructive state that you're in is inescapable.

Honeysuckle. Goldenrod. Say autumn.

The second line is filled with a flowery breath of spring, creation, nature (which is the most brilliant creator of all). And the first two lines are tied together with the word “autumn”.

Autumn is sometimes used as a symbol of maturity, the process of growing up and becoming wiser, more mature. So something or someone, while still being in their flowery spring phase, had to surrender and yield to the stasis of destruction. This idea is further explored in the next line “Say autumn despite the green in your eyes.”

Which I understand as forcefully having to become more mature despite being very young, in spite of being a child, which has happened to Ocean himself.

“Beauty despite daylight” – Daylight, light – everything becomes clearer. You start to see things in a different light, you start to see things as they are, and yet having been acquainted with the cunning ways of life you start to understand that there can be beauty in wretchedness, despite the fact that through daylight you have already witnessed the way things really are.

“Unbreakable dawn mounting in your throat.” – Dawn suggests the notion of hope – so maybe unbreakable hope is rising in you and the only way to let it out is through words (which is understandable, since it is a poem)

“My thrashing beneath you like a sparrow stunned with falling.”

1. Maybe having this sense of {false} hope in him was the cause of his fall

2. Maybe the confession with which this stanza is filled caused him to fall, made him vulnerable in the eyes of someone who is the personification of the first line -

Say surrender. Say alabaster. Switchblade.

To be completely honest I don’t know. My brain wasn’t programmed to understand Ocean Vuong’s genius but it doesn’t hinder me from soaking in every single beautiful word of his. 🌼

Love is stored in the orange segment

@rosewater1997

@sunlightafterdark on instagram

Helge Helme

Herbert P. Barnett

Night sky with Exit Wounds- Ocean Vuong

And where were you that summer- Francisca Matos

Yasica, Puerto Plata - JP Infante

@all-the-bad-dreams-that-you-hide

And where were you that summer- Francisca Matos

Sometimes, I feel like a tiny spring, a stream of water. So excited and jumpy, looking for new paths to flow.

Feeling like maybe, I spread myself too thing, afraid ever little thing I like, every new interest I move and flow towards will dry my up and that it might be my last.

But I'm realize I cannot limit myself out of fear. I realize that my sources are plentiful, limitless and replenishable.

Soon enough I will be a river that slowly carved itself a deep, compelling course. All the things and interests I once pandered to exhilarated and inspired are now tributaries, filled to the brim, flowing to unknown places and people.

Maybe a little later, I will be able to fill seas and oceans of once terrifying depths. The moon herself will pull at my surfaces, day and night and we will share stories and all our thoughts.

She will tell me about the days on which she doesn't glow like she does today.

I will tell her about the stream and how it is a part of me that I'm simply unable to leave behind.

She will tell me that the stream is no less me than the waves on the surface of the oceans I fill are.

And I will remind her that you don't have to glow to be seen and that I feel her presence and realize her existence just as much in the unforgiving mid-day sun as I do on the nights she's revelling in all her glory.

In conclusion, I cannot remember a time the moon and water weren't the softest of lovers. I cannot fathom a time ebbing and flowing existed before they discovered eachother. All of what's eternal and ethereal is contained in them.