Let each soul choose its own stage

In a world where authenticity seems a lost cause, we often cast aside those who bring both novelty and destruction. Yet, the chaotic destroyers are the greatest manufacturers, the ones who tear through the decaying layers of old skin, making room for the rebirth of innovation. Sometimes, they exchange their human skin for that of a lizard’s, shedding the expectations of beauty and conformity.

They appear to challenge God, to dishonor creation, yet they are the true adorers, the most genuine believers. They do not slay God, nor do they arrogantly claim superiority over all beings. Instead, they hold the Creator in reverence, recognizing His boundless greatness. Their destruction is not an act of defiance but of devotion, an acknowledgment that the old must fall for the new to rise.

These gentle spirits are often persecuted by souls already dead, blinded by arrogance, pretending to rule over the living while long deceased beneath the weight of their own egos and distractions. Many embrace existence under the veil of fear, fearing God without truly knowing Him, without striving to understand the complexity of His creation. If we are criminals for taking the lives of others, what judgment awaits us when we destroy our own? Is it not a decision of utter ingratitude? God is not fear. To simplify God is to commit a crime against the intricate structure and divine order of the universe.

When one chooses the arduous path, the universe conspires in their favor. Those who do not give their all will eventually lose it all. Fate’s hands embrace the infinite souls, while those who end their lives by their own hand are cursed, not by divine punishment, but by the weight of their own abandoned purpose. Respect those who embark on the journey of their personal legend, for history testifies that even the greatest rationality and strategy are undone by the unpredictable forces of life.

The conqueror of destiny often loses his kingdom in his pursuit of shadows. Strategy is applauded, logic admired, and results glorified. Oh, how we worship results, our existence consumed by them. We desire to witness the success of others through our own vision, yet we condemn them, both consciously and subconsciously, when they do not conform to the circus. Not all are clowns and magicians. Some prefer the raw honesty of the zoo. After all, it was the zoo that gave birth to the circus. Let each soul choose its own stage.

Yet, how often do we deny them that right? We build temples for the predictable, altars for the agreeable, and prisons for those who refuse to bow to the hollow customs of the masses. We celebrate the ones who entertain, but exile the ones who disturb. And yet, it is the disturbers, the agitators, the reckless dreamers who shape the world.

It is easy to love what is pleasing. It is harder to love what is raw, what is untamed, what does not fit neatly into the mold of comfort. But true creation is not birthed from comfort, it rises from fire, from the hands of those willing to embrace both pain and passion in equal measure. These souls, both feared and admired, do not seek destruction for destruction’s sake. They destroy because it is the only way to make space for something greater.

I do not love those who merely exist, drifting like leaves without purpose. I do not admire those who settle for the gray, for the lukewarm, for the indifferent. My respect is reserved for those who burn, for those who carve their own names into the fabric of time, even if it costs them everything.

I love the strong spirits of solitude that create not just to amuse.

I love those who propose pain, enjoy adversities, and marry suffering.

I love the souls that suffer just to make the future grow faster.

I love those who give the birds of passion, just like this little warmth means nothing.

I love those who make their own light and rhythm: gleaming people and all structures.

I love those whose dance is so contagious that they force their rhythm into existence.

I love those who change for their child, not for the circus.

I love those who follow their light beam, denying other colors.

I love those who cut through themselves just to collect pieces of other fabrics.

I love those who sacrifice themselves for others so they can live inside pride; my respect they gather.

I love those who die in their ideas, that they can’t live in any other shape.

I love the sparkle of desire, the passion and love in their crafting, I admire.

I love the creatures of curiosity that value knowledge over superiority.

I love the fighter, those who live for their sword and die when they see their goal.

I love the positive, the stupid who don’t care when they see their own end.

I love the protector, the ethical, and those who fight for their own.

I love the mouth of wisdom that talks only for birth and death.

I love the ones that create even if they are the greatest destructors.

I hate the smell of indifference, those who deny the past and curse the future.

I hate those who fall in the ocean and never add any nectar.

Written by Habib riden