We can complain about anything

How we have to be born
How we have to die
That we have people to love
And hurt and be hurt by
Or the lack of love
And the excess of work

We can complain loudly, quietly, raucously or passively
Always wanting more
Sometimes wanting less
Mistakenly believing we are the wanting

When really we are so much more then an identity
Of stacked up complaints seemingly forming a personality

We are a seamless love
Just the largest part of a current
Running through each and every particle of matter
That our eyes can land on
And all the ones it can’t
We are nothing and everything of perfection
And when you notice this
It is very hard to complain

Love elephant and want to go steady?

Sign up for our (curated) daily and weekly newsletters!

Apprentice Editor: Brandie Smith/Editor: Travis May

Photo: katietegtmeyer/Flickr Creative Commons