Based in New york, zachary franck is a writer with a focus in music, the human condition, and the detailed realism of life itself. he is the founder and owner of
the passion collective.

The Boy With A Burlap Sack Of Burdens

The Boy With A Burlap Sack Of Burdens

There was once a boy who always showed up empty handed with his head down. Although he was taught right from wrong, he saw the lies in the aghast expression of life’s truths that plagued the wide-eyed, wrinkled faces around him. When tempers flared he sought shelter in rhythm and harmony. There was love in his life, but there wasn’t much direction. He carried a burlap sack of burdens hoping that the changing seasons would eventually relinquish the weight upon his shoulders. They never did.

He cursed God in misunderstood fits of pain and rage. He felt trapped in between the ropes of a boxing ring as he waited for the bell to ring. It never did. So he learned how to stick and move. He learned how to take a punch. The authority in his life was distant so he grew to hate it. With resentments burrowed into his being like splinters, the boy distracted himself with poisonous treats and and soul sucking gadgets.

He was taught how to hustle at an early age. Then he learned how to use his words. They combined for an intoxicating release of elusive power. The boy held his head up high with pockets filled with a plethora of false promises to make the day go by faster. It was “fun” and he was “young”. Until the clock sped up at a rate that he was no longer able to control. The boy was forced to learn the truth buried in the core of a man who is afraid to seize what he is capable of. And he was forced to learn it fast.

Behind the veil of a tough exterior and a broken smile, a lotus flower began to bloom within his muddled soul. He had every intention of living a life as a great man. His perpetual pleasure seeking had stolen the fruitful nature of his purpose. The boy made a decision to slow down. He pulled the emergency brake, but the skid lasted longer than he expected. It always did. Something was different this time though. The unfamiliar necessity to survive and grow crept up his spine and sat at the base of his brain. The boy felt that he had something to offer to the world. Something real. Something that can be felt. It was time to show himself.

S.E. HINTON & THE SUPERCOMPUTER

S.E. HINTON & THE SUPERCOMPUTER

I Was Never Afraid Of Death; I Was Afraid Of Failure

I Was Never Afraid Of Death; I Was Afraid Of Failure