Existence

Colors are nothing but shadows of light, odors are narrowly spectrums of energy, bodies are carriers of souls. Soul, mind, spirit is merely the only real thing of all. Appearances, matter and going physical, nothing of this exists. We see according to what our eyes transmit, neurons resolve and brain translate. The body, humanity and planetary forms represents a very limited prison for the indefinite being. The more we go back to ourselves, believe in it, feel it, the less imprisoned it gets, the more able it becomes. Surprisingly we try hard to know everything outside our own self, that self is literally the only true thing we really have. Unlike anything else, nothing can decrease or increase it, it is immeasurable, so deep and so full of unexplored territories, so smart that it fits and makes attached organs and surroundings fit to its plots. It is mostly misrepresented, no tongue or language or pen or bucket could really express the immense and extreme meanings, feelings and worlds of imaginations and thoughts it carries. Bounded by a brain, it can hardly project nothing more than a life time journey although it existed far earlier and far longer. How it binds with its kind was always better lasted and remembered through mental meanings that came from various traces of literature, creativity or arts that were never really physical. The moments souls retire from their bodies and stop being physical, are only when they get their freedom back. It is not just death but dreaming, madness and falling in love as well.