A Call from the Elephants

How can one call herself as an artist when she herself is confused of her own being? Surrendering or thinking about getting fulfilled by art is not some mere vogue of stereotyping. That person is struggling, perhaps, wandering around the basis of her existence and trying to locate and chart her place where she belongs. Thinking too much is a habit of that artist, up to the extent of nauseating her own self with complex and absurd things that lead to nowhere. Feasibly, she should try to be friends with her own thoughts but where does the majestic "Gnothi Seauton" fall into?

Maybe that scuffling artist has her own varied way of understanding things, things that even shallow people can understand but on the other hand they have a way of seeing and absorbing her ideas in a different manner, different time, and different image. Then she sits alone, somewhere serene in the heart of the city, bounded by two different churches and crossed by the trees beside her, thinking about her own unbalanced life. She said to herself that life is not that simply confusing but she made it all to hard for her to succumb.

Somewhere in her life she met a girl like her. She can still remember the fresh pangs of irritation that was brought upon to her by the girl for she sees her own faults inside the girl's soul. How can she not recognize the same call that was once used against her just to bring her into what made herself be someone like she is now? Unpredictable and violent her heart may be but there is something beyond this girl, something that can surprise anyone who have spoken badly about her.

What makes sense inside her now may not make sense after she wakes up. What she feels now may subside due to the stirring of her soul that will take place once she is sleeping. Funny the way it is how she thinks about Love every time she's about to sleep, tossing and turning in her bed, wishing that wonderful things will happen to her heart, but yet she panics and there is consternation within her every time she thinks of love and all that it is. Her thoughts send spark and trickling pains of discomfort, choking her own thoughts back from where they came from with fear that she cannot experience the hospitality of love that she has long been wishing for since she was still innocent.

A call was all that she needed. A call from the Elephants who are waiting for the rain to pour.