Published by MICHELINE JEAN LOUIS
I remember the first time I stumbled upon a poem written by Robert Frost, “Fire and Ice.” I was in the 5th grade. That's when my love affair with poetry began, and ever since then, my desire to paint with words, to give voice to feelings and emotions, has remained a constant burning passion. Writing saved my life; writing gave me a voice and allowed me to release the pain that was inside; writing helped me discover healing and self-love. I believe all of us are vessels that get to choose what we pour back into the world. And what we choose to share defines who we are. We are here having our human experience, through love and pain, and every action or inaction, is an empowering energy which fuels humanity. We’re all just fighting to be recognized—we want to know we are not alone in this maze. We want to feel like we belong. Our fear is that we are running out of time to exist, we are running out of time to matter, to be loved, to become something more, not just another grain of sand in the sea. We want to shine; we want history to remember us. We are constant in our search for a bit of luck and magic, anything to signify something special. We want the memory of us to be immortal even after our physical body has decayed—we want continual existence. We want meaning. We want to exist and matter now and tomorrow. I am a mother, a wife, a friend, and a writer! In my human experience, I choose to exist!
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Living the Human experience 
When you don’t get love from your beloved , what then?
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sadness, I called it hell, to have never known what it feels like to be loved. I call it hell
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Yes hell, but not exactly, to see your beloved happy no matter if the one is with you or not is the real path to heaven, but hell at the same time cause you never been loved.
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I understand your prospective,
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Thanks for getting it 🙂
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we spend all whole lives wishing and hoping that one day we would know that feeling, and to not have known, is a sadness that cant be captured in mere words
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True that, a sadness which can’t be captured in words in reality, thats why there is a place called dreamland, which gives you a spurious merriment , which can’t be sewn up
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and perhaps it would lessen the fear of the unknown after death, had we experience and known that love, it would give us a hope or something of comparison to look forward too, something greater
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Yes a hope, just a hope, to look onto else to wait for something greater , but it can’t take place unless you want to move on.
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agree
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