I don't care if they all call me insane, if they lower their eyelids scathingly, scoff and ostracize me. If I sacrifice my soul to preserve my flesh and bones, what will I have left? If I offer up fulfillment on the altar of sacrifice, and slaughter my passions, machete chiseling blood, then my soul will wither and die, and if my body is a temple, then it will rot and crumble, and what will remain?
You think humanity should worry themselves with prosperity, upper societies, elevating egos, bloating bank funds, yet, these things are oil to the water of your soul, they can never touch its depths. Why should I care for them, sacrifice happiness for them? Soaked in greed, souls will spoil and curdle, to be thrown out. Society preaches it is better to be jaded, to keep loose coins clenched in our fists to dote on frivolous desires, than to feed a hungry beggar, than to provide a bit of comfort to a lost soul. Can’t you see, blindness of the soul has crippled and wounded the earth.
If I listen to you, and don't go somewhere because humanity suffers there, if I dress myself in a mask of ignorant naivety, then tell me how can I possess compassion? If I am afraid to die, as you are afraid, how can I live? I must stir the whirlpools of passion, be invigorated with life, fill my cup and forsake monotony.
For if I become these things that I hate, materialistic and superficial and greedy, in misery, than I am nothing but a corpse to bury, bury me standing. Instead let me offer of myself what little I have, to be a blessing to others, and let us be creatures of luminosity, united in love.
Photographs by Robert Moses Joyce