I have always been passionate about dreaming to a fault, so much, so that sometimes it seems to burn through me and consume my essence. These are the very dreams that stir the ghosts of ancient tragedies into living, as they witness the legacy of the human race.
These are the same dreams that reflect in my eyes, as I admire the silvery beauty of the moon, the same way our ancestors did centuries ago and it is the same insatiable desire to know what lies beyond life rushing through my brain, that drove them to see art and myths hidden between constellations. The only thing which exists with pure certainty is the unknown, I repeat to myself each time I pick the brush and paint the unknown on the canvas. It is the passion to create and to discover, that fuels my relentless pursuit. I am passionate about treasuring life by giving it the form of poetry, and I am passionate about nothingness., which questions the nature of existence itself! The more knowledge I seem to gain, the more it feels that I know nothing of the universe, and perhaps, it is foolish to dream when nothing exists with pure certainty. How ironic the situation is! We dream because we are devoid of the unknown, yet the only power that can define the nature of the unknown is our dreams. To be filled with passion to know, to create, to discover until it is the only thing we know of, is to embrace the contradictions of life.
In the pursuit of life, I find passion, and passion teaches me to dream with my eyes open. It makes me both the seeker and the creator of the infinite. As Rainer Maria Rilke once wrote, "The only journey is the one within."
