The soul is our metaphorical being; it bears no weight, no set identity. It just exists beyond the scope of visible light. What can be used to represent the soul? Does the soul age? Is the soul as volatile in emotion as the mind? Does the soul experience pain and sadness? If the soul bears no physicality, does it just hold the interests of an individual? Do we feed the soul every time we make a decision? I suppose some decisions actually strip the soul.
If the soul resembles our emotional state, does it shine when we are happy? What happens when we are sad. Is the soul just our subconscious mind? Does it register and know more than our conscious mind? I want to paint my soul in what I believe would be its ideal state.
I would paint light, white light but it would refract as if put inside a diamond. The colors would vibrate. Light is both a particle and a wave, consistently moving. If our soul is light then it does exist for everything that exists is made of atoms.
Maybe our soul is made of stitched up quotes. It has the wisdom of poets, of writers, of lyrics. Words line the edges; invisible stitches moving like whispers among the light.
I once read a quote, “I would paint flowers in even the saddest part of your soul”. I don’t think that’s the specific quote. But what if how we interact with others adds to the beauty or destruction of their soul. I want most to put smiles on the faces of others. I want to be the hurricane that comes and changes their lives. I suppose in a selfish way I hope to be unforgettable. I hope that my words line the stitching of their soul. And I hope to bring an energy that adds intensity to their light like the threshold formula of the photoelectric effect. I see life both through the beauty of art and science.
Science is the art of the universe. I suppose nothing works without math. We are a pattern. Is our soul a pattern.
There is no way to truly draw the soul. We can only hope to be beautiful on the inside. Because maybe inner beauty hints that we are actually feeding our spirit. This rant bears no reason. It almost makes no sense. But I suppose that I just want to explore the inner world of my synapses. And just leave beauty on the people that come into my life. Light, words, music, and hope is all I can give spiritually. I have been stripped so often that I long to fill.
I just need to share the inner monologue of my desires and my love for the simple.