It's not my heart that bleeds, it's my soul. Day in and day out, it bleeds.
It bleeds for the things I've seen. For the beggar in the street who looks the same age as me. It bleeds for the friendly, family orientated people who had the misfortune to be born to the wrong country.
For the girl who was promised so much but was delivered so little. For the lives we've been led into by those who declare they know what is best.
It bleeds for the children who belong to nations adversarial to my own. Children who will grow up in conflict, who will undoubtedly suffer from PTSD long before they ever finish school. Children who will only ever know the West by the bombs we drop.
It bleeds for the people who hate, both for my friends and those proclaiming to be my enemy.
If it were my heart that bled for these people I surely would do more to help them, I would donate my time and my money to better their situations; because how could my heart demand anything less?
No, it's only my soul that bleeds and so to soothe it I write, and I travel, and I indulge in luxuries not afforded to the people I feign compassion for; and in response my soul bleeds.
These musings are not meant as a judgement on any individual, but are merely an observation on the culture and attitudes prevalent throughout society. Some Inspiration was drawn from listening to this song.
The photo was taken in February of 2017 from the top of Mount Oxford, looking towards Les Valley, in the South Island of New Zealand.
