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Friendly Addiction - Culture Is Not Tradition — It Means Showing Up

Don’t talk culture to me when you don’t have the emotional quotient that goes with it. When people speak about culture, they often point to traditions, religion, heritage, or social identity. But to me, culture is something far deeper than rituals or backgrounds. Culture is the act of showing up. It is the willingness to be present when no one else is there — when trauma is difficult to process, when loss creates an endless vacuum, when grief has the capacity to swallow the life out of someone. Culture reveals itself in the moments when life is at its most fragile. After death. After accidents. At funerals. During interventions. During rehabilitation. After emotional breakdowns. After panic attacks. After meltdowns. In such moments, human beings do not need lectures or explanations. They need presence. Souls need connection to face the unknown. Yet often people confuse culture with very different things. They measure culture by professional achievements, by the titles they hold ...

Lives

A constant battle

An indifferent rattle

A scoring cattle

A nerve that pierces you numb

A swerve that greases you dumb

The thoughts give you wrinkles

The fights give you trickles

One makes an attempt to be sane for so long

Only ruling everything that has been so wrong

Still not a word

Just flying the same way absurd

How can one go on

When one is pulled through the very skin

How are the lives

That chose to not go the right way

The ways that refuse to struggle at all

They fall 

They laugh

The world calls them mad

I call them sober

As I am sure at one point they were the ones

Putting everything and everyone together

Until one fine day

Everything scattered

Some of them broken

Some lost

Some tossed into the air

While people called them fair

Madly trying

Madly falling in love

Madly sticking out

Madly without doubt

Only to be mad about 

The things that didn't go polite

Despite being madly after

The eagle just passes by

With me looking up at the sky

Maybe it wants me to lie

That someday when I die

You eat my corpse

Till my very last bone

While a vulture

sits far away

In this mad clutter

This bird  has the utmost flutter

And courage to see it all

But not starve them

For what they have become

Because the sun that sets

Will be back tomorrow

Just like the sorrow that's never ending

Will stay back if you want to

As it loves the folks that narrow their outreach

Go on with your lives

As no one but you can teach

Yourself the right way to fly

As the more lives reveal

The more it gets disheveled 

Hide yourselves

Inside an eagle

That never sits and thinks

Its always on the chase

To hunt down 

Till their very last prey

Draining them grey




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