Love, life, hope. Love life, hope.
Hope is the name we give to survival. Something happened, we survived. Be it our willingness to, or utter hopelessness, but since we survived we thank.
It is silver because silver is closest to grey. Dark grey, jet black. Silver linings.
However cruel be it to say, but there ain’t any other option left for us than to rise up and move again. Poor creatures, made to live. If you attempt suicide, that’s totally another stage. Horrible thing, really.
Politics is the art of fooling people. But politicians aren’t as faulty as are their followers. Why go after someone blindly when you know there’s nothing but lies in their promises?
Love isn’t rubbish. It is the best and the most powerful blessing in the Creator’s menu of Creations. It is the source of all life. All life, literally.
Black doesn’t dissolve you. No matter how hard you try, you can not disappear. Again, poor creatures. But nothingness and numbness are both attainable pleasures. Not sure where, but there is a key to enter that hole. It has something to do with knowing yourselves, and killing ego. Self-destruction isn’t a permanent solution, terrible for all I know.
Life is a blessing. It is, and there is no point debating on that one.